


Grimm Revelations

by Teatime86



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Juliette-bashing, M/M, S4 AU, and sorta combo of s4 and s5, anti-Juliette silverton, anti-nickette, bi or gay meisner, bisexual hank griffin, bisexual nick burkhardt, but they do have a part, do i need any more tags, probably no adalind, the ofc isn't wesen but she's not a grimm or normal human either, the royals aren't the enemy in this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 97,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26976166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teatime86/pseuds/Teatime86
Summary: When Trubel is in danger, Nick and Hank go to find her. The impromptu road trip reveals a lot of things, including hidden feelings between the two detectives-and a new enemy.
Relationships: Martin Meisner/OMC(maybe), Nick Burkhardt/Hank Griffin, Rosalee Calvert/Monroe
Comments: 23
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to do this for years because i ship hank and nick so hard and i hate juliette and even though season 5 was amazing i still feel like it could have been better as could that second half of s4 before trubel came back. also i was kind of wondering for a long time if the royals ever found out about trubel so yeah.   
> everything canon happened up until about the whole wesenrein thing except juliette becoming a hexenbiest let's just ignore that whole nausea/pain thing she had after nick got his grimm back and adalind is not going to be pregnant with nick's baby and pretend nick and juliette have sort of been having problems ever since trubel showed up. i think that covers any issues i might have to explain

"Hank. Hank. Hey, get up, man."

Detective Hank Griffin of the Portland PD was forced to open his eyes by the insistent motion of someone shaking him, and the first thing saw was his partner standing over him with an obviously distressed expression on his face.

"Nick?" he said, blearily scrubbing a hand over his own face , his forehead wrinkling in a frown as he scrambled for his phone. "What's going on? What time is it?"

"About midnight, but it's important. I just got an email from Josh and Trubel's in danger."

That woke Hank up immediately.

"What do you mean? What happened to her?" he exclaimed, jolting into a sitting position, gaze widening in concern.

Nick gave a helpless shrug.

"I don't know. All Josh's message said was that Trubel noticed someone following her and she had to take off because she didn't want them to hurt him. Now he doesn't know where she is, and I'm worried. I wouldn't have bothered you, but-,"

Hank held up a hand to forestall him. He understood Nick's concern perhaps better than anyone: in the short time they'd known her, Theresa Rubel had come to mean a lot to him, too-which was why there was no way he was letting Nick do this alone.

"Say no more. I got your back." He retrieved his cell from the nightstand, then stood to get dressed. "Do you have any idea how to find her?"

"No," Nick admitted. "But since she just left, I figured Josh's place would be a good place to start-and if we go there first, I can get the full story from him."

Hank nodded, agreeing with his partner's logic; if he'd only gotten Josh Porter's email that day, it was a safe bet that Trubel would still be in the vicinity of that location. 

He finished putting his clothes on, and quickly retrieved the rest of the materials he thought he would need for this impromptu trip before following Nick out of his house. 

"Juliette's not coming?" he questioned, one of his eyebrows lifting curiously when they reached Nick's car and he noticed that Nick's longtime girlfriend was not already in it.

His partner's features shifted, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a touch of awkwardness.

"I didn't tell her about the email. There wasn't time to wake her and explain it all; I left her a note, though, so hopefully, she'll understand." Hank didn't comment on the fact that apparently Nick had still found the time to come and explain the situation to him; he simply nodded a second time, accepting the explanation-for the time being at least.  
"Okay, then. Let's go."  
Nick shot Hank a grateful look as the other detective threw his bag into the back seat and slid into the shotgun seat. He was lucky to have such a supportive partner-he hadn't even had to ask Hank to come with him.

"Thanks for doing this, Hank. I know it might push outside the usual parameters-,"

"Hey, it's no problem," Hank dismissed his gratitude. "Trubel means a lot to me, too, and we're partners: if you need me, i'm there. I know you'd do the same for me."

Nick looked at him for a long second, something Hank couldn't identify passing though his eyes, something vanished as he clapped Hank on the shoulder.

"I would," he confirmed.

He got into the driver's seat, shutting the door and putting his keys into the ignition. He paused at starting it, though, taking in a deep, measured breath as if to steady himself-and Hank could guess why.

"I'm sure Trubel's fine, Nick. She can take care of herself," Hank reassured him quietly.

Nick exhaled.

  
"I hope you're right," he muttered before turning the engine on and backing out of Hank's driveway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was probably a bit fast but the beginning of this is going to be pretty fast. i'll get longer chapters once i get to the main plot

Nick knew he probably could have just called Hank before taking off or once he was on the road instead of going to his house, but he'd wanted to see him, to say goodbye in person-and considering how involved with the whole Trubel situation Hank had been, he thought Hank deserved to hear about her being in danger in person, too. 

_and maybe a part of him knew that seeing him face-to-face would result in Hank insisting on coming with him because there was no way his partner would let him go alone-maybe that was exactly what he wanted._

He hadn't planned on Hank joining him; but he should have known better than to think Hank would stay behind.

Now, driving from Portland to Philadelphia with just the two of them in the car was making it rather difficult to concentrate on just finding Trubel. Luckily, he'd already programmed Josh Porter's address into his vehicle's navigation so he didn't have to pay attention to a map since it was a miracle he was even able to pay attention to the road.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. They'd been alone together during long drives-both on cases and not-before; it should have been fine.

_But this wasn't a case-and this wasn't before._

Hank must have noticed how distracted he was and attributed it to being tired-which he was, he had been up the entire night after all-because he offered to take over driving so Nick could get some rest.

Nick took him up on it, but even once they'd stopped and Hank had assumed the driver's position, he couldn't sleep. He pretended to, curling in on himself and closing his eyes; but he mostly just did that to refrain from staring at his partner _and to stop himself from clasping Hank's hand where it now rested on the steering wheel_. He was too wired, those thoughts he couldn't seem to get rid of about Hank whirling inside of his head, as well as concern for his fellow Grimm.

It seemed to take forever for the automated voice to announce that they had reached their destination-nearly a full day of Nick half-laying tense beside his partner, and then once again being at the wheel while struggling to keep his mind on their mission-but they finally did, and by that time, Nick had at least managed to formulate a plan toward what they were _supposed_ to be doing.

He'd replied to Josh's email to say he was coming, so the owner of the house didn't look surprised when he opened his door to find him standing there.

"Hey, Nick, Hank," Josh greeted the two visitors amiably, beckoning them inside. "Wow, when you said you were on your way I didn't think you'd get here this soon. Did you drive through the night?"

"We did," Hank affirmed with a sideways glance at Nick. 

"We didn't want to waste any time; if it's the Royals who caught onto Trubel, she can't take them on by herself," Nick added, a fiercely protective note entering his voice as he crossed the threshold into Josh's entryway.

"Actually, Nick, that's just it: based on what you've told her about them, she said she didn't think it was the Royals,"the other-potential-Grimm interjected, closing the door behind them and pausing with his hands in the pockets of his pants.

Nick's eyes widened as he and Hank came to a halt, too.

"What do you mean? Who was it, then?"

Josh shrugged.

"She said it might be that FBI agent she thought was watching her before we left, the one she told you kidnapped her-Chavez, I think it was?I don't know. She wasn't sure."

Nick and Hank both frowned, but Hank was the one to come up with the solution.

"Why don't you make us all some coffee and tell us exactly what happened?" he suggested helpfully.

Josh inclined his head.

"Okay," he inhaled, leading the two detectives into his kitchen and getting started on brewing that pot of coffee before getting into it.

"So, apparently, the last few days, Trubel told she'd been getting the feeling that people were watching her. And the other night, when i sent you that message, she said she'd seen one of them Woge while he was just a block away from here; but it wasn't a _Hundjager_ , so she didn't think it was the Royals-,"

"Did she say what kind of Wesen it was?" Nick interrupted, the crease on his forehead deepening as he sat down at the table in the corner of the room. If this really was Chavez and whatever secret government group she'd told Trubel she was working with, then things were even more precarious than he originally thought; the Royals, Nick had experience dealing with, but these people-these people he definitely didn't. He didn't even really know what they were after, other than Grimms, supposedly.

"She didn't know; it was one she hadn't seen before," Josh stated, handing him and Hank a mug of steaming brown liquid each, pouring one for himself last and joining them at the table. "But she said they were definitely dangerous, and she didn't want them to do anything to me, so she thought it was safer if she left. I tried to convince her to stay, at least until I could get in touch with you or something, but she'd made up her mind.

"Did she have any idea where she was going, or at least leave you some way to contact her if they did come after you?" It was Hank's turn to ask a question, watching his partner out of the corner of his eye and knowing his concern was intensifying as he took a drink of his coffee.

Josh's grim look at last brightened a little.

"That, at least, she did do. She told me she'd bought a burner phone and that I could call her if I had an emergency, or if i managed to reach you. I have the number right here." He rummaged in his pocket, withdrawing his own phone and opening a memo file that he turned the device so Hank and Nick could see. 

The detectives both leaned over the table, Nick entering it into his cell and immediately pressing the call button. All he heard when he held the device up to his ear, however, was the other line ringing repeatedly, and his tension rose to new heights.

"Damn it," he cursed to himself, punching the end call, and getting back to his feet. "She's not picking up. You see if maybe you can reach her by email, I'm gonna call the precinct back home and see if they can ping the number; the second either of us knows something, we let one another know, okay?"

"Got it," Josh agreed firmly, knowing this wasn't the time for argument. 

Nick and Hank didn't wait for him to see them out, carrying their coffee cups out with them back to the car, Hank resuming the driver's seat while Nick called their precinct and gave them the burner's number for them to track.

He remained on the line while he put on his seat belt, and while Hank turned the engine back on and got them back on the road, his distress increasing more and more the longer he went without getting an answer. _once again he had to fight not to grab for Hank's hand for support this was truly one of the most worried he'd ever been about someone and knowing that hank shared that feeling made it even harder_ His heart dropped when the operator said the last location they could pinpoint for the phone was the very street they were on, and he was unable to stop himself from letting out another curse.

"No luck?" Hank questioned, his frown just as severe as Nick's was now.

Nick shook his head.

"The last time it was on was while she was still on this street, and that was yesterday; so, either she took the battery out, or she's somewhere with no service."

His pulse stuttered when he saw the hand Hank didn't have on the steering column twitch where it rested in his lap, as if he, too, wanted to reach out; but he didn't-instead, he simply balled it into a fist, his jaw clenching.

"So, we'll keep looking the old-fashioned way, and we won't stop until we find her," he declared with determination.

The Grimm turned to look at his partner a second time, that same warmth from when Hank had automatically elected to go with him flooding him once again; what he was feeling went beyond gratitude-it was something he couldn't put a name to. Or rather, didn't want to at the present. He couldn't put it into words, either, so he merely gestured for Hank to keep driving.

_soon, he wouldn't have a choice but to put a name to it though_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure how i feel about both these scenes in one chapter but for now i'll keep them like this and if anyone thinks they should be separated i'll do that later

Eventually,, though, they did have to stop; after several hours, they'd still had no success and Hank suggested they stop and maybe find a way to get Trubel to come to them. Nick wasn't sure that would work, but he was tired and frazzled and couldn't see any other options, so he consented.

They checked into a hotel and then contacted Josh again. He still hadn't been able to contact her, either, so they instructed him to email her the address of their hotel or give it to her if he finally did manage to get an answer before turning in.

However, yet again, despite how exhausted he was, and how late the hour was, Nick still couldn't sleep.

He wished he could say it was simply because he was miles away from home and Juliette, or because he was worried about Trubel-and while the latter was part of it, it wasn't the main issue. 

No, the main issue was how...heated the air between him and his partner was feeling.

Hank was in a separate bed, of course, but it was mere inches apart from Nick's-and he was still able to make out Hank's bare chest and arm above the thin sheet he'd pulled over himself, even in the gloom, a sight he couldn't seem to stop staring at. He'd been watching his partner all day, and his heart had begun beating unnaturally fast-as it had been doing every time he was near Hank lately.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd started getting these feelings toward his partner, but he knew he shouldn't be having them. He was still with Juliette, and even though they'd been having problems recently, he still shouldn't have been thinking about someone else.

But he was.  
  
He rolled onto his back, both to work himself into a more comfortable position and to tear his gaze from the line of Hank's collarbones, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. It was a futile effort, however; even when he shut his eyes, he could still see that dark, defined chest and those rippling biceps in his head, and the images were bringing some...less than savoury fantasies.

Juliette wasn't the sole reason he shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Hank. The other man was his oldest-and arguably best-friend, and he didn't want to do anything that might screw up that relationship; but he couldn't seem to help himself. for some reason, his brain wasn't seeing Hank as merely a friend anymore, and his body had decided to start reacting to his presence-and his appearance-in a manner that was definitely not just friendly.

He tossed and turned restlessly, those sensations making him too warm underneath the stiff hotel sheets and causing his blood to travel south. He fought to stay quiet, but evidently was unsuccessful because a moment later, he heard the sound of Hank shifting in the other bed and his partner's deep voice punctuated the air.

"Nick? You okay over there?"

Nick inhaled shakily, turning onto his side away from Hank, hoping the other man wouldn't see the flush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I'm fine," he replied, attempting to sound as though he believed it.

He could feel Hank's eyes boring holes into his back, probably trying to gauge whether he was being honest or he was just trying to avoid telling Hank what was going on. Nick did his best to remain still, to pretend that there was nothing wrong, that he'd actually been sleeping; once more, though, he must not have been very convincing because the next thing he heard was Hank getting out of his bed and climbing into Nick's.

The Grimm froze.

"Hank, what-?"he half-turned to face his partner again, both bewildered and embarrassed at the sudden proximity, but the intensity of Hank's expression made his voice die in his throat. Hank had never looked at him like that before.

"I know something's up, man," Hank insisted, his voice dropping an octave and becoming unfamiliarly low and husky, sending more trickles of heat running down Nick's spine. His blush deepened, and he really hoped Hank couldn't see it in the dark.

He took another deep breath to try and steady his pounding heart and attempted to keep his focus above Hank's neck-unfortunately, his traitorous thoughts still didn't stop, not even when Hank added, "Is it Trubel? "

Nick didn't want to lie to Hank-he knew his partner deserved the truth after everything they'd been through together-so, he decided to confess what was really keeping him awake, praying that their friendship would survive no matter what Hank's response was.

"That is part of it," he acknowledged in as steady a tone as he could manage; he paused, his tongue coming out to wet his lips and he could swear he saw Hank's eyes following it before he finished. "But mostly, it's that I was thinking...about you."

He expected Hank to look shocked, or to frown like he didn't really understand what Nick was saying. He definitely didn't expect to see Hank's mouth curve slightly upward, or a slight gleam enter those familiar eyes.  
"Really?" the other man asked, voice even lower than before and almost playful as he leaned in further until his lips were only a hair's breadth from Nick's. "That's interesting, because I was doing the same."

Nick's breath stuttered a second time, starting to feel faintly dizzy at his partner's admission and at the touch of Hank's mouth on his.

"Hank," he repeated the other man's name, this time in barely above a whisper, heart now thundering so loud it was a wonder that his companion couldn't hear it.

Hank rolled on top of him, causing the flush on Nick's cheeks to deepen more-especially when their foreheads met.

"Nick," he breathed, lifting a hand to brush his knuckles over Nick's jaw almost reverently, his gaze darkening with something Nick couldn't identify, but something he now realized he'd seen before-more than once. "If you don't mean what I think, if you want me to back off, tell me now."

Nick knew what Hank was saying, and he knew he should tell him to stop, tell him to go back to his own bed and forget this had ever happened, but he couldn't: if he was honest, he didn't want to. He wanted _this_ -he'd wanted Hank to do this for a long time-and therefore, he didn't speak.

When Nick said nothing, Hank surged forward, closing what little distance remained between them and capturing his lips.

An involuntary gasp tumbled from Nick's mouth, his pulse skyrocketing beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. This was what he'd been thinking about all day, and every day since...he didn't even know when: it was just as he thought it would be. the weight of Hank's broad form on top of him, the scratch of Hank's beard against his skin and the pressure of Hank's mouth against his own made him feel hot and cold and elated in a way that being with Juliette never had.

His nails sank into Hank's forearms as Hank cupped his jaw, angling his head to get even deeper but at the same time keeping the contact gentle, giving Nick every chance to pull away. 

But Nick didn't take any of them; he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he pulled Hank closer, feeling every nerve ending in his body become electrified, his breath morphing into ragged pants and his toes curling against the mattress.

"Hank," he said his partner's name a third time, voice coming out a thready moan as he ran his hands over Hank's arms and shoulders, splaying them out on his chest.

It didn't go any further than the kiss, but that was enough. Just knowing that Hank wanted him, too, that he felt the same way Nick did, was enough. He could stop agonizing over how Hank might react to what he'd been thinking about him.

He fell into Hank, the stress bleeding out of his limbs to be replaced with a kind of pleasant buzz until Hank stopped for lack of air. When he made to return to his own bed then, Nick wrapped a hand around his wrist to keep him in place.

"Stay," he requested softly, allowing a hint of vulnerability to enter his eyes as they locked with Hank's once more and he struggled to get his breath back.

There was silence for a few seconds, during which Hank once again searched the Grimm's expression before consenting to stay where he was. "Sure."

Nick finally relaxed and they drifted off like that, tangled together, Hank half-draped over Nick with his arm coiled around his middle.

* * *

It felt like only a few hours later that they were awoken again by what sounded like someone opening the hotel room door; Hank heard it, too, for as Nick was opening his eyes, he was already reaching for his gun-which he'd left on the nightstand between the beds.

"Wait," Hank whispered, retracting his arm from Nick's waist and sitting up partially so he could get a better shot at the door.

Nick sat up as well, preparing to stand just as it was pushed inward; his eyes widened when he saw who walked inside.

"Trubel?!"he exclaimed with a mix of shock and relief, eyebrows arching as Hank abruptly lowered his weapon.

"Yeah," the female Grimm confirmed, removing the beanie hat she'd had pulled low over her had and nudging the door shut with her foot. "Sorry, I didn't mean to barge in on you guys." 

"What happened? How did you find us?" Nick asked, getting to his feet and walking around the bed to meet Trubel as she made her way across the room.

Trubel cast a sideways glance at Hank, who was now fully upright, perched on the side of the mattress, before responding.

"I finally got Josh's message that you guys were here looking for me, and I thought coming to you was probably a safer plan than staying out in the open. I hope it's okay."

"Of course, it is," Nick dismissed her apologetic manner, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. He was really glad she was here and that she was unhurt; it was another huge weight off his mind-one that he thought would be better to keep off. "In fact, I think it might be safer for you to go back to staying with us permanently-in Portland."

Trubel's brows contracted.

"Are you sure? You know that part of the reason why I left was because of Chavez;if I go back to staying with you, that puts you guys in jeopardy again, too," she pointed out matter-of-factly.

It was a valid argument, but Nick had already thought of it-and a counterargument.

"I know, but I'm a Grimm, too, again and I can handle it. If Chavez and whatever organization want to come after you, we'll have a better chance of dealing with it together-and I'll feel a lot better if you come home." He hadn't meant for that last part to come out, but it seemed to please Trubel because he saw the corners of her mouth twitch slightly before she gave a quiet sigh.

"Okay," she surrendered, clearly unable to come up with any further objections. "I would like to come back; I missed you guys."

Nick gave a sigh of his own, his a release of tension.

"We missed you, too," he told her honestly.

"You can sleep there," Hank spoke, tilting his chin in the direction of the bed he had previously vacated. "I'll stay here with Nick."

The female Grimm looked back at him.

"You sure?" she said, not commenting on the fact that Hank and Nick had already been sharing a bed.

The two men shared a brief glance, and what felt like an entire conversation between them before both their mouths creased in faint smiles.

"I think we'll be okay," Nick answered, hiding the redness that was once more blossoming at the back of his neck by rubbing at it. "Get some sleep, and we'll head back in the morning."

Trubel inclined her head in acceptance and trudged over toe empty bed, toeing off her boots and climbing underneath the covers.

Nick returned to his bed as well, tugging the blanket over them as Hank laid down beside him again.

"Night," their new roommate called as they resumed their previous position, facing the opposite wall so Trubel wouldn't see Hank replacing his arm around Nick's waist.

"Sleep well, Trubel," Hank responded, shifting while Nick settled back against him with a soundless exhale.

"Goodnight," the other Grimm stated, too, letting himself relax into Hank's embrace. That was another worry assuaged, he thought as he closed his eyes, feeling the pull of slumber tugging at him again. Trubel was okay and she would be returning with them; that had been his biggest one.

Everything else could wait until they got home.


	4. Chapter 4

The ride from Philadelphia was just as strained as the journey there had been-only this time, the silence was filled by Nick informing their new companion everything she had missed while she'd been away. Hank chimed in now and then, and every time he spoke, Nick felt a slight prickling on his skin. It was exactly the same sensation he'd experienced all the time lately-except now it was emphasized by the memory of how Hank had spoken to him while _in his bed_ and he had to conceal it from more than one person.

Trubel had to notice something was going on, but thankfully, she didn't pry and Nick was able to focus on coming up with what to say to Juliette when they arrived. Telling her what had happened between him and Hank would be the honourable thing to do, but he kind of wanted to wait until he knew what it meant;also, he thought her more immediate question would most likely be regarding Trubel. He probably shouldn't be, but Nick was grateful to have to explain that first.

They stopped a few times along the way, once to switch drivers and others to eat and such, so it took a little longer than the drive there had; it was night again by the time they re-entered Portland and they were all quite drained.

Nick had taken over driving, and as he was dropping Hank off, he stalled in his driveway, wanting to say something more than simply 'thanks' or 'see you tomorrow'-but with Trubel in the backseat, he found it hard to come up with the right words.

So, all he said was "Thanks for doing this with me. You didn't have to."

Hank remained standing in the open door, his dark features arranged into what Nick might have almost described as tenderness.

"And you don't have to thank me, Nick," he told his partner, the softness of his words reeking of subtext meant only for the other man. He held Nick's gaze a second longer, rolling his lips under, then he addressed the other occupant of the car. "It's good to have you back, Trubel. You guys get home safe."

"Goodnight, Hank,"Trubel answered, her eyes darting back and forth between him and Nick as he shut the car door and started toward his house. Once his retreating form had vanished inside, she switched her attention to Nick. "Is something going on with you two?"

Nick was still watching Hank depart and almost missed her question; when he did catch it, his shoulders hunched slightly. He thought she'd picked up on it-they weren't exactly being subtle-and now she was finally asking.

He pressed his lips together briefly.

"Yes," he admitted after a beat, turning the engine over and backing away from Hank's residence, starting for his own. "Something is; I'm not really sure what yet, though."

Trubel also must have noticed the turmoil behind his statement because she didn't press for more information, reclining in her seat and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket.  
The silence resumed for the rest of the journey and Nick managed to construct a feasible explanation to give Juliette for all this-one that was the truth, but left out what he wasn't ready to explain _what he still hadn't explained to himself_.

When they reached his house, he had to take a second to compose himself before going in. He'd thought he was done lying to people; but, he reasoned, this would just be a temporary lie, just until he had a handle on what was going on.

Trubel followed as he stepped out of the car, no doubt able to perceive his tension and keeping mute while they entered the house. It had been a while since she'd left, but it still felt more like home to her than anywhere else; if Nick had turned around, he would have seen the contentment on her youthful features at seeing the place again.

However, he was too preoccupied with his own mixed feelings at being back. Stepping into this house felt more like returning to reality; being in that bed with Hank, even only for a few hours, had been almost like a dream and now he was having to wake up. As much as he didn't want to, he didn't have a choice.

"Nick?" his girlfriend's familiar voice emitted from the kitchen, sounding both pleased and anxious. "Is that you?"

Nick inhaled deeply.

"Yeah," he called back, continuing in the direction of the other room, smoothing his hands over the front of his wrinkled clothes.

She met him halfway, her eyebrows arching when she caught sight of his accompaniment.

"Trubel?" she exclaimed, a crease appearing on her white forehead; that was obviously not what she'd been intending to say next. She definitely hadn't been expecting to see the female Grimm with Nick, and both Nick and Trubel could tell it wasn't exactly garnering a pleasant reaction.

Trubel, on the other hand, widened her smile.

"Hey, Juliette," she greeted the older woman like she would a much-loved relative. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," Juliette said, though with a touch less sincerity. She looked back at Nick, querying. "When you said Trubel was in danger, I didn't think that meant you'd be bringing her back here. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?"

Nick shared a glance with the younger woman; Trubel gave a light shrug, then told her part of the story.

"About 5 days ago, I saw some suspicious people watching josh's house. At first, I thought it was the Royals coming after him again, but then one of them followed me when I was on my own; I saw him woge and it wasn't a Hundjager, so I thought instead it might be someone Chavez sent after me. I didn't want them to hurt Josh, so I decided it would be safer if I left him."

"Josh called me, though, and like I said in my note, I wanted to make sure she was okay.Hank and I went to Philadelphia to search for her, but when we couldn't find her, we rented a motel room and left her the address on her email; she met us there, and after we talked, we agreed it would be best if she went back to staying with us. I'm a Grimm again, so if Chavez or whoever wants to target her, we can stand up to them together," Nick finished firmly. 

Juliette interjected almost as soon as he was done, her frown deepening.

"Hank went with you? You didn't mention that in your note."

Nick had to fight down a guilty flush, feeling like a child caught doing something bad; he forced himself to give a casual shrug.

"Well, I hadn't planned on taking him, but when I told Hank what was going on, he insisted on accompanying me, and I didn't have time to argue, so I let him,"he stated-again, that was the truth, but it wasn't explaining how he'd had time to stop at Hank's to tell him in person he was leaving, but not to wake Juliette.

Juliette was still frowning-no doubt that had occurred to her,too, and Nick was surprised when she didn't point it out, instead returning her focus to the other matter at hand.

"Well, I'm happy you're all safe," she commented. the sentiment was sincere, but Nick could tell she wanted to add more, to ask more-like why he hadn't called her or even texted her while he was gone to let her know he was okay, or to inform her when he'd found Trubel and give her a heads up that the younger Grimm would be returning to stay with them-fortunately all she did add was, "Trubel, you remember where the guest room is. You can drop your stuff there, and there are leftovers in the fridge if either of you are hungry."

Trubel tilted her head forward.

"Thanks," she said graciously, turning on her heel to do just that.

Nick, though, just shook his head.

"I think I'm just gonna crash, actually. I'm pretty tired and I still have to work early tomorrow," he begged off, mimicking Trubel and going to the stairs. He was exhausted and he did have an early shift the next day, but he also didn't want to give Juliette the opportunity to interrogate him any further like he knew she wanted to.

He ascended the steps hurriedly, making a beeline for their bedroom, where he then dropped his bag into the closet and immediately undressed for bed.

Once he slid under the covers, however, he wasn't able to sleep. He listened to the noises of Juliette still in the kitchen, Trubel joining her and then the two of them conversing. About an hour later, he heard Juliette entering the room and climbing into their bed beside him.

He turned away from her, pretending to already be asleep to once again discourage any conversation. He had nothing to say to her at the moment; his mind was not on her at all.

* * *

Even when slumber at last overcame Nick, it wasn't very restful. Things between him and Hank weren't as difficult as they'd been prior to their impromptu road trip, now they were more confusing; as hard as it had been deciding what to tell Juliette, he knew he couldn't decide anything until he knew what their kiss-and what Hank had said to him in that bed-meant.

When his alarm went off in the morning, he got both an opportunity and a time limit in which to do that; his phone rang as well, showing a text from Hank.

` _Breakfast @ diner? Think we should talk._ ' It said, and just seeing the words on the screen made Nick's pulse pound.

He instantly sent a reply, agreeing to the meeting, scrambling out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower before heading there.

All while getting dressed and driving to the diner, Nick attempted to sort through his emotions and put them into more concrete terms. To begin with, he thought pinpointing exactly when these feelings had started would be smart.

He supposed it had been around the time that Trubel had shown up in their lives. There had always been a... _closeness_ between him and Hank that was more than that of partners or even best friends; but Nick hadn't really noticed it until the female Grimm had come along.

Seeing how Hank had interacted with her-how he'd worried over her like a parent, how he'd helped Nick look after her-and how the two of _them_ had interacted during her stay, it had alerted Nick to a deeper connection between them, one that had been building for years.

He'd never been willing to think on it before, his relationship with Juliette making it both inappropriate and insensitive. Trubel's presence, though, exposed the cracks in _that_ relationship; her reaction to Trubel had been a sharp contrast to Hank's. Yes, Nick understood it hadn't been cool for him to just spring Trubel on Juliette like he had, and yes, she eventually did change her tune, but the damage had already been done. A distance had developed between them-and something else had developed with Nick and Hank.

As Nick sat down in the booth where the hostess seated him, he began to reach a conclusion. He and Hank had a lot of history together; they'd been partners for nearly five years, and close compatriots for about that long. When Nick had discovered he was a Grimm, he had found it harder not to tell Hank that to conceal it from Juliette, more worried about losing him because Hank might think he was crazy. When Hank had seen his first Wesen and began losing it, Nick had felt like he was crippled; when he finally admitted the truth, Hank had given him his unconditional support. Hank had always been there for him in ways Juliette never had, always willing to help him no matter what he needed, even if that meant pushing outside normal police procedure. He'd lied for Nick, wanted to go after the Royals when they'd tried to turn him-according to Monroe-and then this.

He began to fidget nervously as he continued to sift through all the memories of his and Hank's relationship. He didn't want to lose what they already had; he'd counted Juliette as his anchor, but Hank had been, too-and he'd never once complained. the last thing he wanted was for that to change.

Then again, he didn't think they could go back to how it was before-you didn't practically make out and literally sleep with someone and expect things to stay the same. He couldn't forget what it felt like, having Hank's lips on his, the weight of Hank on top of him, the warmth of his bare skin under his hands-and, if he was honest, he didn't want to forget, either.

His thoughts were interrupted by his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the door opening about ten minutes after he'd sat down; Hank was finally there and he was heading straight for his table.

Nick inhaled deeply, steeling himself to calm down; he couldn't stop himself from looking over Hank, and his nerves were slightly stymied by the similar obvious anxiety on Hank's weathered features. He didn't look like he'd slept any better than Nick had.

"Hey," the older man greeted him, his tone the usual amiable one he normally used with Nick; but there was a hint of the same nervousness that was on his face, an acknowledgement that there was nothing 'usual' about this meal.

"Hey," Nick returned the greeting in the same manner, sitting a little straighter and taking a drink of his coffee to steady himself as Hank sat across from him. "How was your night?"

The older man ordered a coffee as well-and breakfast- before replying.

"Okay. Didn't get much sleep, though," he said, rubbing at his brow with the side of his hand. Nick saw that familiar scrutinizing intensity in his eyes as they traveled over him in return. "You?"

Nick set his mug back down on the table, wiping his palms off on his jeans.

"Same. I was awake most of the night-for reasons I'm sure you can guess."

Hank's smile faltered.

"Yeah, I probably can." Nick saw his throat flex as he swallowed slowly. "What happened between us the other night, Nick...what does it mean?"

Nick heaved another deep, forceful breath, blood thundering even louder in his ears. This was it: whatever he said now would either change or break their friendship-he didn't want to say the wrong thing and have the result be the latter.

"I don't know," he confessed carefully. "You've been a really great partner, Hank; you've always been there for me, and having you has made all the craziness in my life a lot easier to deal with. I don't want to ruin that, but...I have feelings for you. Like I told you the other night, I've been thinking about you in a...more than a friendly way for a while now-and when you kissed me, it kind of gave the impression that you have, too."

Hank wasn't immediately forthcoming with a response this time, that unidentifiable look in his eyes growing. Nick was practically on the edge of his seat with the suspense of wondering how Hank was going to react.

But when the silence was broken, it wasn't by him.

"Detectives Nicholas Burkhardt and Hank Griffin," an unfamiliar voice suddenly punctuated the air, tearing the two men's attention away from one another to see the speaker sauntering in their direction.

It was a woman that neither of them recognized; she appeared to be about Trubel's age, with thick chestnut hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, nearly blending into her forest-green coat-a stark contrast to her piercing silvery green eyes.

Her voice had a distinctly Asian-sounding accent, and hearing it utter their names with such authority brought a furrow to Nick's brows, as did the sight of her sitting down at his right.

"How do you know our names?" he demanded.

The woman's thin, flesh-coloured lips curled in a smile.

"From a mutual friend; she knows a lot about you," she replied mysteriously, slinging one of her jean-clad legs over the other. "But I know something she doesn't: you're a Grimm-and your partner there isn't."

Nick figured he should be used to this by now: strangers knowing that he was a Grimm-but he wasn't. And there was a difference in this instance: usually when this happened, Wesen assumed that Hank was a Grimm, too-but this woman seemed utterly certain he wasn't, which made Nick's hackles rise.

"Who are you?"he asked more guardedly, eyes narrowing as he covertly reached for his gun under the table.

The stranger seemed aware of that, too, and it didn't seem to bother her because she merely shook her head.

"That won't do anything to me," she pointed out flatly, still smiling as she tilted her chin at his weapon. "And you don't need it. I'm not an agent of the Royals or even a Wesen-I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Chione."

Her reassuring tone did nothing to placate Nick-nor did hearing that she wasn't Wesen. If anything, it just made it even more suspicious that she knew who-and what-he was.

"How do you know I'm a Grimm?" he pressed, his fingers staying wrapped around his gun despite Chione's insistence that it wouldn't have an effect.

The brunette propped an elbow up on the table, leaning back in her chair.

"Like I said, we have a mutual friend-and I've been watching you for a while," she answered honestly. "First for my own personal interest, then for hers."

"Who is this mutual friend? And why is she interested in me?" 

Chione's smile widened at nick's persistence-but it no longer reached her eyes. "You ask a lot of questions."

Nick unholstered his weapon, resting it on top of his leg just out of sight; beside him, he could sense Hank doing the same, waiting for him to make a move. "It's part of my job."

A short chuckle slipped from the woman's lips.

"Well, my friend and I have a different job for you, your partner-and your new houseguest," she stated, causing Nick's eyebrows to arch. She wiggled her fingers in an odd sort of gesture before reaching inside her coat and pulling out a slip of green paper, laying it down on the table. "Unfortunately, we can't really discuss it here, so, if you want to know more, you'll meet me here later tonight." She shifted her chin again, this time at Hank. "Bring him, and Ms. Rubel. I'll see you all soon."

With that, she rose from the plastic chair and exited the diner, her smile not receding even a little.

Nick didn't put his gun away until she was out of sight, and even then his fingers remained wrapped around the handle for several seconds.

Neither he nor Hank said anything for an an additional few, but he saw his partner's forehead wrinkle, too, when he finally did speak.

"That was weird, even by our standards," Hank commented. He lifted the piece of paper the woman had left on the table and scanned it critically before holding it out to Nick. "It's an address about a quarter mile out of town. You going to meet her?"

Nick paused, considering. the woman could be lying about not working for the Royals, and asking them to meet her at that address could be a trap; but the Royals didn't know about Trubel, so why would they want to see her?

And if the woman wasn't lying, then there was a new player and Nick would really like to know who they were and what 'job' they could have for him, Trubel-and Hank.  
After a long internal debate, Nick released his gun and took the slip of paper from Hank, reading the message for himself.

"Yes," he declared, tucking it into his jacket and looking back at his partner. "I need to know who these people are and what they want with us; you don't have to come."

Hank waved a dismissive hand, a determined set coming to his jaw.

"Of course, I'm going to." He waited a beat to see if Nick would argue anymore; when he didn't, he switched subjects. "You going to tell Juliette?"

Nick took another drought from his now-lukewarm coffee.

"I don't think so-not until we know what we're dealing with." He then reached into his other pocket and withdrew his cellphone. "However, I am going to tell someone else."

He dialled Trubel's number, pressing the call button and holding the device to his ear.

"Trubel?" he said as soon as the line picked up. "Someone knows you're here and she says she has a job for us. She wants us to meet her tonight, and Hank and I are going to go."

' _Then I am, too_ ,' Trubel stated firmly.

Nick nodded; he'd been expecting that.

"I'll text you before we get off so you can be ready." He sighed as he heard Trubel voice an agreement.

' _I will be._ '

He darted a glance at Hank, a bit chuffed that their conversation had been interrupted-and now they had to head in, they wouldn't have a chance to talk again until after whatever this was.

Assuming it didn't turn out to be a way of getting rid of them, of course.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting into the larger plot now where it's basically season 5 but hank and nick are a couple and there ain't no Eve

For once, there was no wesen-related mystery waiting for the detectives during their shift and they were able to sign off earlier than usual. Hank drove them to Nick's place first to pick up Trubel, who was already waiting when they arrived just as Nick had told her to be, decked out in her hooded coat and no doubt concealing that machete of hers-in addition to a few other weapons-beneath it. Nick thought, as with most of the events occurring lately that he probably should inform Juliette what they were doing, but, like he'd told Hank that morning, it would be easier to do so after the fact, once he had a better understanding of what that was.

The three of them took off, heading for the address the woman had given Nick.

The male Grimm's forehead wrinkled when it turned out to lead to a nondescript rectangular building that was so drab and monochromatic, it practically blended into the twilight backdrop; he was pretty sure the only reason he-and Trubel-could see it were because he was a Grimm, for Hank obviously couldn't make it out,

"There's nothing here," the other detective declared, his weathered features contorted in an expression of unconcealed bewilderment.

The corners of Nick's mouth twitched slightly, and, as he glanced over his shoulder toward Trubel, he saw hers do the same.

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing," she commented wryly, undoing her seat belt and beginning to exit the car.

Nick followed suit, his expression morphing into one of wariness; the building may have looked innocuous, but that only served to make him more suspicious.

"Both of you, be on your guard. I don't like this," he advised his companions out of the corner of his mouth, taking the lead and approaching the structure with his gun drawn.

Hank and Trubel stayed nearby, flanking him on either side and poised to draw their own weapons at the first sign of danger.

However, they detected nothing, not even upon reaching the building-Nick couldn't even make out an entrance.

What they did see, though, was the same woman who'd invited them here, standing on the lawn in an indigo cloak, as if she knew they'd be coming.

"Welcome, detectives," she greeted them courteously in that deep, lilting accent of hers, her emerald gaze sweeping over the two men then settling on the other dark-haired woman. "And you must be Ms. Rubel. It's a pleasure to formally meet you at last."

Trubel's brows contracted as she took in the woman before her, and Nick saw a flash of what he identified as recognition dart through her brown eyes.

"You," the female Grimm said guardedly, not bothering to conceal her shock. "You were one of the people I saw watching me in Philadelphia."

The woman didn't look at all shamefaced, actually wearing a full grin as she inclined her head.

"I was. I apologize if I startled you, but I was under orders. We needed to keep track of you, and we thought if you got spooked, you might lead us back to your friends here."

"Why?" Nick interjected sharply, forcing the cloaked woman's attention back to him, his tone making it clear he expected an answer. "What do you want with us?"

Chione, as she'd called herself, didn't seem affected by his demanding manner, either.

"Follow me, and I'll explain everything," she beckoned to their group with her gloved fingers, turning on her heel and striding toward the camouflaged building.

Nick shared another glance with his friends, his frown deepening; Trubel's revelation and the casual manner in which Chione admitted to spying on her made him like this even less, as did how much she seemed to know about them and their lives.

Trubel, though, was charging straight ahead, her gaze narrowed on their escort's back, obviously intent on getting to the bottom of the situation. Naturally, neither Hank or Nick was comfortable leaving her to deal with it by herself, so they continued ahead, too.

The elder Grimm was even more put off when, the second they were within inches of the building, what appeared to be a solid wall suddenly separated, revealing an unlit garage-like chamber. It didn't stay unlit; once the two women crossed the threshold, fluorescent bulbs sprung to life above them, bathing them in faintly ivory illumination.

That indicated something new to Nick.

"We're not alone, are we," he observed flatly; it wasn't a question.

"No, you're not," another unfamiliar accented voice, this one distinctly German, answered, the speaker stepping out of the shadows along the wall on the right and into Nick's path. It was another man, another stranger; if Nick had to guess, they were about the same age and height, but the other man had a bit on him in the muscle department, the gray shirt he wore underneath his navy jacket straining over his broad chest.

Chione rolled her eyes at the new arrival's dramatic entrance, while her visitors were all instantly put on edge.

"Who are you?" Hank asked sharply.

"This is Meisner," the woman introduced him after shooting him a glance that clearly said she wasn't impressed. "He's kind of the second-in-command around here, and one of our most valuable agents and advisors."

That introduction answered the first question, but it also raised several others, such as if this Meisner was second-in-command, who was first? And in command of what?Who were these people?

"I guess you're joining us?" Chione was still speaking, addressing Meisner this time with an arched brow.

The bearded man didn't answer right away, his flinty aquamarine eyes scrutinizing Nick, giving the Grimm the peculiar impression of being x-rayed; his bearded features remained inscrutable as he gave a curt nod.

"She thinks it's a good idea, and I'm inclined to agree. Besides, you know I'm more familiar with this cell than you," he stated without emotion, continuing to look over Hank, then, like Chione had done, fixing his stare on Trubel. "This is the Grimm she had you observing?"

Trubel bristled more under his gaze; she didn't appreciate being talked about, or not knowing what the people discussing her were thinking.

Nick and Hank didn't like being left out of the discussion, either; however, being privy to it, the Grimm was beginning to get an inkling of what might be behind it.

"How about we walk and talk? We're not going to convince them to help us by making them stand here," she suggested, resuming her stride; Meisner fell into step behind her without further argument-but Nick wasn't so accommodating.

"Help you with what?"he probed, unable to keep a hint of impatience out of his voice as he hastened after them. He thought he knew who had them brought here; but, if he was right, then he didn't understand why he and Hank had been invited.

He nearly had to yell to be heard over the sudden beeping that preceded another set of doors sliding open in front of them, leading into what was obviously an elevator. Chione and Meisner piled in without a word, apparently still not hearing him, anyways, but Nick and his friends still mimicked them, though not without a bit of wariness.

There were no buttons in the inside of the elevator,, Nick noted-nothing was pressed or moved, yet the smooth metal shaft whirred into motion as soon as the doors were closed again.  
It took them down into a narrow Spartan transit, lined with a series of thick, visibly steel-reinforced doors and blocked off by a single wire mesh gate, which emphasized the military-ish vibe Nick had gotten from outside. As did the presence of the other man positioned by that gate, who was clad in fatigues and carrying an assault rifle in gloved hands.

He opened the gate for them after it was automatically unlocked and Meisner took up the lead through to the end of the hall.

"What is this place?" Trubel was the one to ask what was now on all their minds as they took in their surroundings, feeling both bemused and a touch intimidated. "Who are you guys?"

Their sort of tour guides looked at each other, then, still trudging forward, the man explained.

"A branch of the federal government. don't try to find it-it doesn't exist."

The obvious consternation on Trubel's youthful features deepened-she'd heard something like that before-and Nick and Hank's frowns also became more pronounced, caught on the clean, sanitized state of things.

"So, I guess we've never seen any of this," the male Grimm commented dryly, more to cover how out of his depth he was feeling than anything. This was definitely not what he'd expected to find when he'd decided to come to this meeting. His shrewdness intensified as the bearded man turned right at the end of the hall. "How high up does this-whatever this is-go?"

"I don't know, actually," Meisner confessed truthfully, stopping to wait for another gate to be opened, this one manned by multiple guards and serving as the entrance to a large chamber that was home to a series of computers, all in use by a different person. "But, as you can tell, we're not without funding-and don't ask us where that comes from, either, because we don't know."

Nick inhaled softly as they stepped into the center of the room, and he caught sight of the projection screen on the opposite side, as well as the oddly shaped table placed in front of it and the sheer level of the equipment at work. That was an understatement-one which prompted him to repeat his earlier inquiry.

"Then what are we doing here? What do you need _our_ help with?"

"The war." Neither Meisner nor Chavez answered him; instead it was another woman, standing before the projection screen and tapping at a tablet-a woman who, when she turned around, all three of the visitors instantly recognized.

"Agent Chavez," Nick declared, folding his arms across his chest. His suspicions had been confirmed. This was connected to her and the reason she'd kidnapped Trubel; she was the mutual friend Chione had mentioned-she was the one running this group.

The FBI agent only betrayed a flicker of astonishment at seeing him, then her full lips twitched.

"Detective Burkhardt," she greeted him just as smoothly, not missing a beat. "I was a bit sceptical when Chione told me you were a Grimm, too-I thought I'd already tested you and you failed; but then, there were some extenuating circumstances at that time, weren't there? That was your book I found, and it was on Ms. Rubel's bed in your house because you were teaching her to use her abilities-because you are what she is."

Nick neither confirmed nor denied her assertion, his face melting into a look of rigid neutrality as the two of them stared each other down.

"I told you back here you couldn't be watching me, so your solution was to have people do so in Philadelphia?"Trubel piped up accusingly-unknowingly saying exactly what Nick was about to-striding to the front of their queue."What, did you follow me there?"

"Yes," Chavez confirmed as unabashedly as Chione had, turning away from Nick and meeting the younger woman's glower without flinching. "Like I said last time we met, we require your services, and we couldn't afford to lose you. Not with what's coming-or rather, who."

"Is it time to show them?" Meisner interrupted, walking around the table between them to join Chavez in front of the screen.

The FBI agent nodded, then pressed something on her tablet; the image of four black lines slashed through screen shifted into a map of the continents with several different colour gradiations spread across it.

"These are all the hotspots of Wesen uprisings: Brazil, Northern Ireland, turkey, Syria, Yemen, Pakistan, and Ukraine," Meisner informed them bluntly, more serious. "As my esteemed colleague puts it, this is a war-and it's happening all over the world."

"We call ourselves Hadrian's Wall," Chione chimed in, her smile finally dropping as she took a seat and gestured around her. "This is one of our command centers, where we've been tracking these uprisings and coordinating with the other cells to shut them down, to fight this."

"All of that stuff is Wesen-related?" Hank cut in, peering closer at the screen with a scrunched look on his face; he clearly was having a hard time wrapping his mind around that. As was his partner.

"All of it," Chione confirmed grimly. "There are people displaced everywhere because of what our enemies are doing; but no one understands the real reason behind any of it."

"Which is what?" Nick wondered, jaw clenching a fraction. This couldn't be good.

(And it wasn't)

The two women both shared a look with Meisner-and each other-before Chione dropped the bomb.

"A world run by Wesen. Hitler tried it once; now a group of others are trying again."

"And they're coming here-to Portland," Chavez added direly, setting her tablet on top of the table and facing their guests fully. "That's why we need you-all of you, Grimms especially. You're our best chance of stopping this before it gets any worse."

Nick huffed, not knowing how to respond. It was a lot to grasp at once, and the fact that Chavez was involved made it all a bit dubious. He wasn't inclined to believe her; but he also wasn't keen to discover what the cost would be if he didn't.

Once again, as if she were reading his mind, Chione gave a final statement.

"We don't expect you to believe us right away, but you'll see soon enough that we're telling the truth. These wesen aren't like any you've ever dealt with before, and you will have to deal with them." She jerked her chin at the gate then. "That's all-that's our pitch. You're free to go, as long as you know anyone you tell about this is going to be in danger."

None of them said a word, still processing all they'd heard and seen; they filed out mutely, retracing their steps until the elevator had lifted them back to the compound's entrance and they'd returned outside.

Nick slid into the shotgun seat in a stupour, and beside him, he saw Hank's fingers flexing on the steering column.

"Well, it wasn't a trap," Hank said with an attempt at humour-though he wasn't laughing. "Though to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure what that was."

Nick half-turned so he was facing both Hank and Trubel simultaneously, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Was that approximately what Chavez told you when she took you off the street that time?"

Trubel paused, thinking back, before shaking her head.

"She said something similar, but the whole 'world run by wesen' thing was a new one. Do you think she's telling the truth, about there being an organization trying to make that happen and them coming here?"

"She was pretty convincing," Hank observed noncommittally, shifting in his seat so his foot brushed Nick's, making the Grimm's skin prickle.  
Nick swallowed. There was way too much going on his head now, not the least of which was the conversation he and Hank had been having before all this started-the one that Chione had interrupted. It was kind of hard to concentrate on this matter when that one was still unresolved.

"I don't know," he said after a long silence. "She and the others did seem pretty compelling, but I'm not sure we can trust any of them. I mean, that Chione woman and Meisner are total strangers, and how much do we really know about Chavez, other than the fact that she's had people after you since you killed Weston Stewart?"

"True," Trubel conceded his point, "But that did kind of make her point about Wesen influence in the government for her; there was a rogue wesen FBI agent working for the Royals for a long time and no one knew. If this group has people like that and they're really responsible for all this bloodshed and destruction, don't you think we should help?"

Hank was watching him-even though he should have been watching the road-Nick could tell, waiting to hear his opinion and Nick still hadn't really formed a solid one. Trubel had also raised a valid argument, but there were still a lot of unknowns about the situation-chief among them being the issue of whether it even really existed-and then, of course, what it really meant that this group of wesen was attempting to run the world.

By the time they arrived back at Nick and Juliette's house, he still hadn't settled on a decision. He knew it wasn't to be made lightly-also, there was still something else he needed an answer to.

"Trubel, would you mind going inside? Hank and I need to talk in private," the elder Grimm said as the car came to a halt.

Trubel stopped in the middle of opening the rear door, looking between the two of them. She seemed to realize that their conversation wasn't something that concerned her-maybe she could even guess what it was going to be about-and she nodded.

"Sure. Night, Hank."

"Goodnight," Hank called back as the dark-haired woman exited his car and made her way into the house, shutting off his engine then and half-turning in his seat to face his partner expectantly.

Nick didn't speak right off the bat, fingers twisting in his lap as he struggled with how to start; seeing that, Hank decided to take it out of his hands.

"So, our conversation this morning before we were interrupted," he paused, letting out a tiny sigh before finishing his thought. "I do, Nick. I'm not the best at this, but...I've been in love with you for years. I've never said anything because I thought you were happy with Juliette. I mean, you wanted to marry her; but I'm guessing what changed. Why?"

"I don't know," Nick admitted, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. He'd spent most of their trip and that morning analyzing it, but still hadn't really gotten a concrete answer. "The night my mother showed up with Adalind and the baby, I was going to propose to her again; obviously, though, I was interrupted and then, when we met Trubel, everything just kind of snowballed. I saw the way you were with her, the way we were when she was around; it made me look at you differently, made me feel things I probably shouldn't-things I couldn't ignore once we were alone in that hotel room, so far away from home. And when you kissed me, they all came together. I-I love you, too, Hank."

Similar to earlier that day, Hank was silent while he digested Nick's admission, and Nick watched him anxiously, trying to discern what he was thinking; but, for one of the few times in their friendship, he couldn't tell.

"What about Juliette?" Hank finally questioned, voice quiet.

Nick sighed a second time; he'd had a feeling that was coming, so answering it was a little easier.

"I still care about her, but I'm not in love with her anymore. I haven't been for a while now."

"Are you going to tell her-about us?About everything?"

"I was going to, but after what that Chione woman said..."Nick trailed off again, still fidgeting. It would be the right move, telling Juliette that he didn't want to be with her anymore, that he had feelings for Hank; but circumstances had changed. If they agreed to work with Chavez and her organization, suddenly breaking up with his long term girlfriend would probably not be the smartest way to avoid drawing attention.

"She'd make a good cover, wouldn't she?" Hank appeared to guess what he was thinking, sounding like he felt as good as Nick did about that concept-that is to say, not very good at all.

When Nick nodded slowly, his partner let out another sigh, meeting his gaze again.

"Look, Nick, I want to be with you, however you want to do it. If you think you can handle it like this, then I can, too. But it's up to you."

Nick saw Hank's hand twitch beneath the steering wheel, like he wanted to reach out to him; Nick guessed he didn't because there was a chance that Juliette might see. It was the same reason Nick didn't kiss him again, even though he really wanted to.

Despite the extreme effort it took to abstain from doing so, Nick managed a smile.

"I want to be with you, too, Hank, and I think I can handle keeping it a secret, even if it's not exactly ideal."

Hank's mouth twitched into a grin as well and, in lieu of any other options, he nudged Nick with his shoulder. "Okay, then."

Nick nudged him back affectionately. He didn't really want to leave, but he knew he had to, for appearances' sake, if nothing else. As for whether or not they were going to work with Hadrian's Wall, well, that decision didn't just involve the two of them.

"I should probably go inside, but we should tell Monroe and Rosalee about this, too. I know that woman said we'd be putting them in danger, but if this is about Wesen, it involves them, too."

Hank leaned his head back, considering. There was another reason Nick wanted to tell them: they were his friends, just as close as Hank, and he didn't want to lie to them as well.

Apparently, his partner felt the same way because he nodded.

"Right. That'll be on the top of our to-do list tomorrow," he agreed as Nick opened his door and stepped out onto his driveway.

The younger man flashed him another smile.

"Great. Goodnight, Hank," he bid his partner farewell, feeling a bit lighter than he had a moment ago.

"Sleep tight, partner," Hank returned it just before he closed the door, a clear double meaning to the term now-one that kept Nick's grin in place until he drove away.  
As he made his way into the house, his thoughts turned back to the other issue of the day: Chavez's proposal. Nick still wasn't sure he trusted her enough to work with her-but, if what she'd said was true, then soon, he and his friends might not have a choice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> episode 5x02 but nick isn't suspended and with some griffhardt  
> some dialogue ripped straight from the episode so disclaimer for that; THIS TOOK FOREVER BECAUSE OF THAT

Juliette wasn't awake when they returned, which was a relief because it meant Nick didn't have to spin any kind of story to explain why he was so late again-or why he'd required Trubel to join him-but was able to go right to bed.

His slumber was only marginally less troubled than the previous two nights, a shadow of tension cast over it by the threat of what Chavez had told him and what it might mean. Not just for him but for everyone in his life, everyone in the city. Even if she hadn't been honest, even if that threat wasn't real, the organization she'd assembled to combat it obviously was-whether anyone else was aware or not-and they could still wreak some serious havoc.

When he got up for work the next morning, Trubel had already risen and was in the kitchen, a bowl of cereal cradled in her hands and pronounced bags underneath her eyes, like she'd slept far less than he had-though probably for the same reason.

He could tell she wanted to discuss it as soon as he came downstairs; she even opened her mouth, perhaps to ask if he and Hank had settled on a course of action after she'd gone inside, but she was almost immediately interrupted by the buzz of Nick's phone.

Nick paused midway through pouring himself a cup of coffee to answer it, a slight swooping blossoming in his chest when he saw Hank's name on the screen. He probably wasn't calling with good news considering the early hour, but that didn't stop Nick from having to fight to sound normal when he answered.

"Hank."

" _You rested?_ " his partner's voice emitted from the speaker.

The corners of Nick's mouth twitched ruefully at the question.

"Not really," he replied honestly."But what's going on?"

" _We got a nasty one._ "

That sobered Nick pretty quickly. A nasty murder by their standards would probably be horrific by anyone else's-not the best way to start the morning.

"Where am I meeting you?"

" _C &E Investments on Burnside_," Hank directed.

Nick didn't know the place, but he was familiar with the area. It was a rather long drive, so he didn't have much time to waste.

"Okay, I'm leaving now," he consented, hanging up and turning an apologetic look on his houseguest. He knew she wanted to continue their conversation from the previous night, but unfortunately, it wasn't the moment.

"I know," she said understandingly before he could speak, obviously altering what she'd begun to say prior to Hank's call. "I'll tell Juliette, and I can wait until later."

Nick nodded, grateful for her patience.

"Thanks. I promise we'll talk as soon as I get home," he replied, screwing a lid onto the travel mug in which he'd poured his coffee then heading for the front door. He paused at it, however, adding because he thought Trubel should know, "We're going to tell Monroe and Rosalee-this concerns them, too."

Trubel seemed to agree with that reasoning because, instead of trying to dissuade him, she offered to do it for him. "Do you want me to? I wouldn't mind paying them a visit, anyways, and it sounds like you're going to be pretty busy today."

"Yeah, that would be a big help, thanks. Let me know when you do," Nick requested; once he saw her acquiesce, he resumed exiting the house.

He took a long drought from his mug as he made the journey into town, going as fast as he could without breaking too many speed limits.

Hank was just pulling in, too, when he arrived and Nick slid his drink into the cup holder before he shut off his vehicle's engine and went to meet him at the building's entrance.

"Guess telling Monroe and Rosalee about yesterday's going to have to move down the list, huh?" the elder man commented by way of a greeting as Nick fell into step behind him and the two of them entered the investment firm's office.

Nick rolled his neck in a stretch, preparing himself for whatever this case might throw at him. "Trubel said she'd pay them a visit for us, and I thought they might like to see that she's back, so I let her."

"Yeah, that would probably be good; she does have a little bit more rapport with Chavez so she can offer better insight that we can," Hank opined, his attention momentarily diverted from the blue walls of the corridor they passed after leaving the elevator, side-eyeing Nick carefully.

He had a point, Nick thought. He hadn't even thought of that.

They lapsed into silence, taking a moment to turn their focus to their job upon coming through the pair of wood-framed glass doors and ducking underneath the crime scene tape to get to where Sergeant Wu stood, talking to another uniformed officer.

"Wu," Hank hailed him, prompting the officer to halt his conversation and instantly move to face them.

"Hank, Nick."

"Where's the body? Nick queried, his expression becoming more serious.

"Right this way," Wu lead them straight ahead, past a set of leather chairs toward the rear of the area, giving them the rundown. "And like I said, it's a pretty nasty one. Victim is Mr. Beau Childs, CEO of the company. Margin clerk Paul Wemlinger heard screams earlier, ran in, saw two men running out, called 911. We're checking security cameras now."

They had to ascend another flight of stairs before reaching the CEO's office, where they finally got their first glimpse of the body. 

Nick grimaced. Oh yeah, it was definitely nasty; the middle-aged man appeared to have had his throat torn to shreds and there was blood everywhere. Like with the bulk of their cases, the Grimm instinctively knew that this was Wesen.

"That is not something a human could have done," his partner observed incredulously, shaking his head and mirroring Nick's expression,

"How many people were here when it happened?" Nick asked Wu, brows furrowing as he looked away from the victim.

"Just the victim and Wemlinger as far as I know," Wu informed him, checking his notebook. "Wemlinger called the victim's assistant, Betty Frame . She just got here."

Nick and Hank continued to scan the scene with that in mind, categorizing everything for clues as to what they were dealing with. The only real indication, thought, really were the wounds on the victim: even Childs' face was mangled, the slashes across it looking to be from a claw or something. There were a lot of Wesen with claws, so that wasn't much to go on.

When they concluded their observation, they shared a look of silent communication; if this Wemlinger guy was the one who called 911, maybe he'd seen something that might be a clue.

"Let's talk to the witness," Hank declared, gesturing for Wu to take them to him.

Wu acceded, and the three men left the office, going back down the stairs and into the clerk's section. There was a man in one of the chairs there, who Nick assumed was their witness. He was almost the complete opposite of his late boss: short, thin and less bloody, but not by much. He appeared very distraught.

"Mr. Wemlinger, I'm Detective Griffin, this is Detective Burkhardt," the elder man introduced them courteously as they halted in front of him. "Can you tell us what happened?"

The witness wrung his hands helplessly.

"I was working late. I didn't even know Mr. Childs was still in the office," he stated, voice trembling with what sounded like genuine emotion. "I heard screams. It was awful."

"What did you see?" Hank continued the interrogation.

"I saw two men running from Mr.Childs' office."

"Can you describe them?"

Wemlinger shook his head.

"They were both wearing ski masks," he waved a hand in front of his face as if to demonstrate what he meant-rather unnecessarily, Nick considered. "One of them might have been bigger than the other, I don't know. And, um, one of them was holding some kind of a stick or a weapon-I can't be sure."

Nick frowned, cutting his gaze to Hank again to see if Hank was buying this-because he wasn't. No stick could have inflicted the kinds of wounds they'd seen on the victim, nor any other weapons he could think of.

Hank's thickset brows had risen a fraction, clearly skeptical, but he'd managed to keep the rest of his features neutral as he posed his next query, "Did you go after them?"

Tears formed in Wemlinger's eyes as he made another negative motion.

"No, I was scared. I went to Mr.Childs' office, tried to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do."

Hank affected an understanding nod.

"You called 911," he prompted.

"Yes," Wemlinger confirmed.

"What did you do to try to stop the bleeding?"

"I-I put my hands on Mr. Childs' throat," Wemlinger started acting out his story again. "And I tried to give him mouth-to-mouth, but there was just so much blood. I think he was already dead."

"And you washed your hands?" Nick piped up, noting that his hands were the cleanest part of him, which didn't really track if there had been as much blood as he was describing.

"Yeah, I tried to get the blood off. I don't-I don't think I got it all," he answered, becoming even more disturbed and rubbing his hands together as if he were trying to clean them more thoroughly, like he could still feel his boss' blood there.

That was kind of overkill, but for the time being, Nick went along with it. they didn't have anything to trip him up with yet.

"Okay, just a couple more questions," he said placatingly. "When did you call Mr. Childs' assistant?"

"Betty? Right after. I didn't know what else to do."

"Any idea who might have done this?" Hank inquired, testing him with a routine question. But it got them nothing.

"No. I don't know who would do such a thing. It's just-," Wemlinger threw his arms up, inhaling deeply as if to compose himself. "I'm sorry. You might want to talk to Betty. She knows a lot more about his personal life than I do."

"Okay, sit tight. We'll be back in a minute," Nick just refrained from rolling his eyes at the dramatic display of grief, maintaining his consoling look until he and Hank had put some distance between them and the witness.

"We buying his story?"Hank quipped dubiously as they went to where the assistant, Betty, had been placed to wait for them.

Nick scoffed.

"Are you kidding me? That was all an act. He either knows who did it, or it was him. Either way, he's guilty."

"Do we think the assistant is in on it, too, or could she help us nail him?"

"We're about to find out," Nick took a left, striding right toward the short-haired and also clearly extremely upset woman hunched in one of those leather chairs they'd walked by previously.

"I can't believe this is happening," she proclaimed as soon as she saw them, bottom lip trembling. Maybe it was just because she wasn't covered in crimson smears, but her sadness seemed a little more credible, changing Nick's attitude.

Hank, though, handled about the same.

"Betty, how long have you worked for Mr.Childs?"

"17 years."

"Now, Mr. Wemlinger said he called you right after it happened," Nick said, checking to see if her story matched Wemlinger's-at least, where they intersected.

Betty confirmed that bit.

"He did. He was very upset; I came right over."

"How would you describe the relationship between him and your boss?" Hank probed; he'd taken a seat in a chair across from Betty and was leaning forward, clearly examining her reactions.

"Very professional," Betty responded firmly, meeting his searching stare without blinking. She didn't seem to be lying; that was the case as far as she knew.

Wu came down the stairs that lead to Childs' office at that moment, a pointed look on his features that made them pause.

"Excuse us a moment," Nick beckoned to Hank, who instantly rose and tailed him over to Wu.

"Checked security camera: no one seen coming or going in the last three and a half hours except us, and her," Wu informed them matter-of-factly.

"Wemlinger was alone with the victim," Hank surmised; that made his story even less plausible and made him the only suspect.

"This has got to be Wesen,, right?" Wu said, looking from Hank to Nick.

The Grimm nodded.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. "But what kind, we don't know-and we still need a motive. Let's bring Wemlinger in, see if we can make him give something up."

"I'll run prints, see if anything prior comes up,"the sergeant suggested, and once Nick and Hank had given their consent, he went off to do precisely that.

* * *

The other officers at the scene brought Wemlinger back to the precinct in their squad car, the two detectives going on ahead and taking the time until he arrived to do a background check.

"Nothing on him anywhere; background's completely clean," Hank declared after mere moments, slumping back in his chair defeatedly.

Nick steepled his fingers above his keyboard, elbows propped on his desk. That didn't necessarily mean anything, other than Wemlinger just hadn't been apprehended for any previous crimes.

"Could be he's just been better at covering his tracks, or there was a particular reason he didn't with this. It couldn't have been anyone else," he mused aloud. He got to his feet and seeing Wu heading toward them again, tilted his chin at him. "Maybe prints'll be of some help."

"Got something on Wemlinger? Cause we don't," Hank called, standing as well.

"Boy, do I," Wu huffed, unfolding the laptop in his hands and positioning it so they could all see the screen. "Paul Wemlinger, AKA Simon Kincaid. Wanted for embezzling $975,000 from the Bankers' Trust in Sacramento three years ago. Doesn't make him a murderer, I suppose, but it certainly puts him at the party."

"So, if he's embezzled once, it's likely he was doing it again," Nick started to put the pieces together as they went to the interrogation room. "Maybe Childs' was onto him, and he killed him to keep him quiet."

"Well, that's definitely motive," Hank asserted, peering at Wemlinger-or Simon Kincaid, Nick supposed-through the window in the door. "Is there a Wesen that really likes money and is capable of tearing someone's throat out?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the Grimm couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at Hank's sarcasm. the fact that he could find humour in situations like these was one of the reasons why they worked so well together.

"Maybe there is," Nick joked as well, pulling the door handle to let them in.

Hank entered first, crossing to where their suspect was seated at the table in the center of the space, circling him with deliberate slowness.

"You and Mr. Childs were working pretty late last night. You always work that late?"

The clerk was definitely more composed than he'd been at the office; he was still wearing his bloodstained shirt, yet his face was dry and his tone was steady when he spoke.

"Depends on the work. You stay til it's done."

"What were you working on last night?" Nick inquired, moving to the corner of the one-way mirror as Hank took a seat, his tone a little more edged.

"Getting out the quarterly reports. We have 217 clients."

"Why was Mr.Childs there so late?"

"I don't know; he was the boss. He was under a lot of pressure," Wemlinger observed in a measured tone. He most likely thought he was getting away with it, Nick guessed, and that was why he was being so calm now. He didn't think they could tie him to this because he didn't think they knew what he really was.

He was wrong.

"You have access to all the accounts?"Hank interjected, lifting his dark brows a fraction.

Wemlinger's undisturbed exterior cracked slightly,

"Yes," he said carefully. "But I'm not the only one."

"Any money missing from the company?" There it was; the setting of the trap, morphing Wemlinger's expression into one of scandalization.

"No."

"You sure about that?" Nick quipped sharply, putting more force into it. His act was pretty convincing, but neither detective was fooled. They knew it was just that:an act.

That didn't seem to occur to their suspect because he maintained his denial. "As far as I know."  
"

Isn't it your job to know?" Hank demanded, probably thinking he had him there. But he had an answer for that, too.

"My job covers a wide range of responsibilities."

"You ever hear of Bankers' Trust in Sacramento?" Nick fired at him, changing tacks, hoping to get the unknown Wesen's blood going-that was usually how he triggered a Woge without their volition.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He succeeded at least marginally for there was an audible note of panic in Kincaid's voice then. Now he just had to push it over the edge.

"Yes, you do," Nick got in his face, striding over to him and bending forward to bore holes into him. "You were stealing money from C&E just like you were stealing from Bankers' Trust."

"I was not! There were two other men inside, I told you. I saw them."

"Security cameras didn't," Hank debunked his defense, doing the opposite from Nick and not moving from his chair.

"Mr. Childs found out what you were doing and you killed him," Nick repeated his theory loudly. Predictably, Kincaid attempted to protest again, but Nick steamrolled over him; he lunged, grabbing him by his shirt collar. "You're Simon Kincaid, you're Wesen and we know this was you!"

Kincaid did Woge, then, and it was certainly one of the more unsettling metamorphoses he had witnessed. The attributes of the wesen were familiar, though he'd never seen them personally; he remembered seeing them in one of his books. It was a Quijada Vil, he was sure the name was-a creature more than capable of maiming a person like Childs had been.

And apparently, vicious enough that he wasn't afraid of a Grimm; when Kincaid met his eyes in full Woge, he didn't suddenly recoil or exclaim in apprehension. He merely betrayed a flicker of comprehension before saying curtly. "i want to talk to a lawyer."

Nick released him in disgust, not even bothering to dignify his request with a response before charging back out of the room. That reaction wasn't entirely what he'd aimed for, but at least he could tell what they were dealing with.

Hank rushed over to him, brows arched expectantly.  
"So? What'd you get?"

"I think he's a Quijada Vil. Never seen one in person before, but I've read about them and he's definitely capable of ripping someone's throat out,"Nick explained, adrenaline racing. 

Hank nodded slowly. "So, we know he did it-we just can't prove it."

As if to add to their situation, Wu appeared in the corridor once more.

"We've got a problem," he announced grimly. "Two US marshals just got here."

Both Nick and Hank frowned.

"What do they want?" the elder man wondered, nonplussed and a touch irritated. 

"Your suspect," Wu answered, turning in the direction he had just come, with the two detectives close at his heels, presuming the US marshals were there as well.

When Nick saw them, his jaw clenched. This was about to get a lot more difficult.

"Hey, I'm Detective Griffin, this is Detective Burkhardt," Hank introduced them, adopting a courteous manner that didn't hide his tension at this new development from his partner.

"Dan Reeves, Ray Durant. We got a hit on Simon Kincaid; guess you know him as Paul Wemlinger," one of the marshals returned the favour in a similar manner; his partner, on the other hand-Durant-was significantly more aloof when he told them why they were there.

"He's wanted in Sacramento. We're taking him back there; this is our warrant," Durant brandished the document and Nick's sense of unease got worse. This couldn't happen; these guys weren't going to be able to handle a Quijada Vil-hell, _he_ didn't even know if he could handle one.

Hank attempted to deter them. "He's a suspect in a murder case."

Durant shrugged like it was out of their hands-though he didn't appear too sorry.

"Where is he?" Reeves asked, sounding only slightly better.

Nick raised a palm to forestall them.

"Give us a second," he requested. He could tell the marshals weren't keen on granting it, but they did, and Nick turned to Hank.

"We can't let them take him," he said in an undertone.

"They have a warrant, Nick," Hank pointed out.

Nick licked his lips, struggling to pinpoint a solution. He could really only think of one at present.

"I have to warn them," he concluded and, without waiting for Hank to weigh in, he raised his voice to address Durant and Reeves. "Before we take you to him, I have to tell you something."

"What?" Durant said tersely, looking like he was only listening to get it over with.

Nick didn't let that discourage him-he was used to other law enforcement agencies not being too friendly about him getting involved in their business.

"You have to be careful with this guy. He is not what he seems; you don't know what he's capable of."

Neither of the marshals seemed impressed by his warning. On the contrary, Durant's wideset features were downright unimpressed.

"Look, Detective, just because we've got babysitting duty doesn't give you the right to bust our balls."

Once again, Nick had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"I'm not 'bustin your balls'. I'm trying to make sure you don't get hurt. This guy, he's dangerous," he tried to be patient, to get them to understand what he was telling them.

Sadly, it didn't work.

"Just take us to our perp, if you please, _Detective_. We know all about him," Reeves had apparently lost his patience and was now gesturing pressingly for them to get on with it.

Hank shot Nick another look that said 'Well we tried' and began to take them to the suspect. Nick heaved a sigh before accompanying them. There had to be more he could say or do.

"Look, I'm being serious-," he started one more time, chasing after them, but the marshals were done.

"He's an ink man. What's he going to do, forge us to death?" Reeves snarked derisively, continuing ahead without meeting Nick's gaze.

They didn't give him the chance for a third attempt, traipsing in front of Hank into the room where Kincaid was still being held. His demeanour wasn't at all worried, not even when the marshals moved to either side of him and Durant lifted him from the chair by his arm to steer him toward the precinct's exit.

Nick still didn't abandon them, hastening to follow them to their car. Upon seeing him, both marshals let out sighs of their own.

"We can handle him, okay," Reeves dismissed him confidently, almost cockily. Nick found it rather pigheaded that they weren't listening to him, considering the different levels of their professions.

"No, you can't. I'm telling you, you have no idea what you're dealing with." As Nick testified a final time to what they were transporting, that very man-a generous term after Nick had seen-looked straight at him from the rear window of the vehicle, and his features melted again into those of the monster he really was. Scales, pointed, razor-like teeth and large, feral eyes from the page of the Grimm book peered tauntingly at him and a shiver rattled Nick's spine.

The other two men didn't see that, he knew. All they saw was a short, skinny man in handcuffs who they probably wouldn't think could hurt a fly, never mind two guys twice his size.

His assumption was proved by the exasperated noise Durant emitted before he leaned in his now ajar door and asked Kincaid, "You a badass?"

Kincaid was silent, merely letting his gaze wander innocently around, maintaining the illusion that he had no clue what Durant could mean-still perpetrating his charade. Nick wasn't going to blow his cover.

The marshals just laughed, then, evidently declaring the matter closed. "Let's go," Durant said mirthlessly, sliding into the front seat of the car while his partner switched on the engine from the driver's.

Their doors slamming sounded a little too final to Nick and he watched them leave, his brain still in overdrive. He couldn't surrender just like that. If those guys weren't going to protect themselves, somehow he was going to have to do it for them. That was his job, not just as a cop, but as a Grimm.

His intent was stymied when he caught sight Kincaid smirking at him through the back windshield again. Oh, he wasn't letting that go-no way.

Hank caught up to him as he was trudging back into the precinct.

"What happened?" he asked, alarmed by the steely look Nick's pale features had arranged themselves into.

"They didn't believe me," Nick sighed disgruntledly, though in a tone that implied he wasn't letting that stop him. Which only served to worry Hank further.

"What are you going to do? You can't stop them."

"I can follow them," Nick argued fiercely.

That didn't alleviate Hank's alarm. 

"All the way to Sacramento?"

The distance didn't bother Nick; yes, it was a long way,, but this was about saving lives. He grit his teeth determinedly.

"Whatever it takes."

He could tell Hank didn't like it, but he was trying to do the right thing. Hank couldn't want those marshals to end up dead anymore than Nick,, and if saving them meant subverting standard procedure...He was glad when Hank gave his support-he always did.

"All right," he conceded reluctantly and with a definite hint of discomfort, like he really wasn't keen on Nick doing this solo-but someone had to apprise Captain Renard of what was going on in case it went south, and Hank could try to work another angle from the precinct. "But keep me updated as much as you can. I'll tell the captain, see if there's anything he can do to help. And Nick?" The two of them looked at each other, and Hank's expression softened. "Be careful."

"I will," the Grimm assured him, sensing the ulterior motivation behind the advice, that it wasn't just as a friend wanting another friend to stay safe-maybe that was always what was behind Hank's concern and he'd just never realized-and it evoked a small spot of warmth amidst the tension currently radiating through him.

He shot Hank a last, mollifying glance before leaving him, running to where he'd parked his car and scrambling onto the route to Sacramento.

* * *

Keeping to the speed limits wasn't really an option this time. He couldn't afford to lose his quarry; of course, he couldn't really afford to get pulled over, either, so he had to find a balance.

He did his best to keep Hank updated, but texting or talking while driving at the rate he was going was not the wisest action. As well, there wasn't much to report, other than his position; for the first hour, he saw neither hide nor hair of the marshals or their prisoner. That didn't make sense-this was the route they'd been taking and he wasn't that far behind since he'd left only a few minutes after them.

Nick swore under his breath, hitting the gas pedal harder, making the landscape blur faster around him.

About twenty minutes later, he at last spotted the marshals' car, parked at a gas station on Southwest Barns. He took the turn, pulling in behind the polished black vehicle-it was empty, he realized upon closer examination. Neither of the marshals was inside, nor was Kincaid and there didn't seem to be anyone else around either. That was more than a little suspicious.

Nick shut off his vehicle and climbed out, drawing his gun as he moved. He could hear the station's attendant inside, but that was all. Other than that, everything else was eerily quiet.

His hackles rose as he approached the customer restroom at the side of the building and noticed a pool of crimson fluid seeping out of the bottom of the door. Blood-and it was fresh.

He was too late.

"Shit," he muttered, kicking the door open and undoing the safety on his weapon. He doubted Wemlinger/Kincaid had stuck around, but better safe than sorry.

There was blood all over the floor in the bathroom, another large puddle spreading out from where the shorter of the marshals, Reeves lay prone, eyes shut. His throat was torn to shreds, exactly as Beau Childs' had been.

As was his partners, Nick discovered as he ventured further inside toward the first stall. Durant was there, positioned like he was sitting atop the toilet, encircled by even more blood. That was why it was so quiet: there was no one else alive to be making noise.

Nick lowered his gun and took out his phone, immediately dialing Hank.

"The marshals were hit," he said by way of a greeting, fury and bile forming within his throat. He'd known this was coming-he should have been able to prevent it.

" _Wemlinger_?" Hank queried from the other end of the line.

Nick heaved another bitter sigh. "Who else could it be?"

" _Where_?" He heard what sounded like Hank getting to his feet in a rush, probably preparing to come to him with the full force at his side. 

"Gas station on Southwest Barns."

" _Secure the scene. We're on our way_ ," Hank said firmly. Nick didn't need to respond, so he ended the call and the Grimm went about following correct procedure.

He had everything more or less under control by the time Hank and Wu appeared with a few other uniforms, sirens blaring.

"You okay?" was the first thing Hank asked once he'd joined him, looking nick over as if checking for injuries.

Nick nodded, though his jaw was still clenched.

"I'm fine. I got here after Wemlinger had already done his business and escaped. I didn't see him."

Hank took a breath as if relieved, then seemed to remember that Nick wasn't the only one to be worried about. "Where are the bodies?"

"Bathroom," Nick jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, doing a 180 and taking Hank to the scene.

The scent of decay was stronger this time and the bodies looked even worse. As horrible as that sight was, though, it wasn't what caused Hank to react.

"What the hell is that?" the elder man exclaimed, bypassing the dead men and making for the mirror over the sink.

"What?" Nick mimicked him and switched his attention to the grimy glass, which he hadn't done before-but he should have. Because smeared across the surface, in the same viscous crimson fluid that was all over the room, were four diagonal lines like some sort of symbol-a symbol which, furthermore, Nick could have sworn he'd seen before.

It took a minute before he recalled where.

"I've seen that before," he told Hank, dropping his voice as one of the other uniforms entered the scene.

Hank turned to him, eyes widening. "Where?"

"In Hadrian's Wall's headquarters. It was on that screen Chavez was watching when we came in, right before Meisner changed it."

"You think Wemlinger might be tied to that group they mentioned?" Hank suggested.

Nick considered it: this did fit the bill for what Chavez and her cohorts had described. Wemlinger was certainly unlike any Wesen he'd dealt with before-and that mark appearing in their headquarters and here couldn't be a coincidence. Still, he wasn't ready to fully commit to the notion, so he shelved it.

"I don't know. That's not important right now-what's important is finding Wemlinger. We know he was embezzling: if we find the money, it could lead us to him."

Hank obviously wanted to explore the subject, but Nick's statement seemed to remind him they were on duty and he refocused.

"Chances are he's still in Portland. It's not going to be easy to move with everyone looking for him," he pointed out. "Forensic accountants should be combing the books at C&E as we speak."

That meant they were in the wrong place.

"Let's get back and see what they've got," Nick ordered authoritatively, exiting the public bathroom once again and returning to his car. Hank complied, and they sped back to C&E's office, where the forensic accountants were waiting.

In their words, the funds had been wired through offshore accounts in multiple different locations, including the Bahamas and the Caymans, beginning in March of 2 years ago. They couldn't get the names or socials on the accounts, but the transfers had originated from Wemlinger's computer at the same time each week-and after each transfer, he had made a call to a Portland number.

A number that Wu tracked and discovered belonged to the residence of one Betty Frame.

* * *

The two detectives met Wu at the apartment on northwest 19th and the second they advanced on the door of unit 502, an odd sound pricked Nick's ears.

"I hear something," he informed his companions lowly. He listened closely to try and identify the noise. "Electric motors-a lot of them."

Hank and Wu glanced at each other, and Hank gave the barest trace of a nod, indicating to Wu to break down the door. the sergeant barreled into it, Nick and Hank right behind him, guns raised and at the ready.

"Portland Police!" Hank shouted, getting in front once they were inside. The unit was cluttered with computers, and all of them were switched on, running some program-and Wemlinger was at one of them.

He jumped to his feet as soon the three police officers plowed in, looking scared for the first time. His attention shifted rapidly, however, to the woman who came through the other door on his right-Betty, it turned out-yelling, "What was that?"

Another yell, frightened and shocked, escaped her when Wemlinger's hands wrapped around her throat. He woge'd, baring his teeth in a snarl.

"Move, and I'll kill her! I'll rip her throat out!" he threatened.

He started dragging her back toward the other door, panicked whimpers emitting from her all the way. Nick tried to get at him, but he couldn't get a clean shot unless he was willing to shoot through Betty.

Wemlinger had chosen an effective shield, allowing him to retreat into the other room before any of them could get there; but when he slammed the door closed, Nick and Hank ran.

"Watch the hall," Hank commanded Wu before trailing Nick as he kicked that door in.

Betty flew at him the second he crossed the threshold, still whimpering and flailing, crying, "Help me! Help me!" so he wasn't able to prevent Wemlinger from leaping out the window behind her.

He managed to get her off him with a little fuss and hurried over to the window, leaning out to see Wemlinger on the firescape.

"He made me do it! He made me help him!" Nick heard her say as she threw herself at Hank next, and he picked up what Hank said in response.

"I'll take the stairs," Nick took that as a go-ahead to clamber out the window himself, and he chased Wemlinger down the fire escape into the street outside. He was fast, practically hurtling across the road into an alley blocked by a chain link fence; that didn't even give him pause, and he just vaulted right over.

Fortunately, Hank had already gotten to the other side; unfortunately, Wemlinger had mysteriously vanished.

Nick looked wildly around, fingers curling into the links as he tried to spot their target. His adrenaline spiked when he finally located him.

"Behind you!" he alerted Hank urgently, jangling the chain and scrambling to get to the other side as well.

He saw Hank whip around in time to take one of Wemlinger's claws to his face. The elder man reared back, ducking a second swipe; he tried to shoot again, but the Quijada Vil knocked his gun out of his hands, leaving him no chance to recover before he lunged.  
Nick couldn't stand by and watch. He jumped, clinging to the fence and using the holes between the links to haul himself over, too. He landed on a busted-up car just as Wemlinger was tossing Hank into a pole of old tires.

Nick leapt off the car and shoved the Wesen bodily away from his partner, grabbing a length of metal off the ground. His swing with it missed, though, and Wemlinger didn't go down; he landed another vicious backhand on Nick, but the Grimm was too furious to fall. Instead, he went at Wemlinger with a vengeance, slapping his hand over his face and pushing with all his might.

Wemlinger collided with the car in front of the fence and Nick tried to hold him, swinging the metal rod again, but Wemlinger broke free, the metal shattering the car's window instead. He couldn't mount another attack because the Wesen kneed him in the gut, causing him to double over.

Hank was getting back to his feet by then, and he pinned Wemlinger's arms from behind, but it wasn't enough to fully subdue him; even as Hank dragged him away, he kicked Nick in the chest, sending him stumbling into that car again.

Nick grunted in pain, righting himself as quickly as possible, watching with a mix of shock and horror as he walked up the side of the car when Hank yanked him toward it, wrestling out of Hank's grasp and throwing him against the hood.

Hank slumped momentarily, giving Wemlinger the opportunity to scuttle out of their reach. He knocked a worn shelf into his path, the wooden frame smashing into both Hank and Nick; Hank shoved it aside, raising his arms to deflect the tire that Wemlinger, now on the roof of the car, launched at them.

He didn't stay to see if it hit; he sprang off the roof before either detective could move again, flipping onto the dumpster back on the other side of the fence, then hitting the ground running.

Right in the direction of Wu in the squad car.

There was no way Wu could miss his advance-he bustled out of his seat, gun already in his grip.

"Stop!" he called to Wemlinger's rampaging figure. The Quijada Vil didn't heed his demand, however, he just kept right on coming even when Wu repeated himself. He climbed onto the hood of the police car and Wu had no choice: he pulled the trigger and fired off two slugs into Wemlinger's chest.

Nick picked the metal rod he'd previously employed as a weapon back up and used it to break the chain binding the fence closed so he and Hank could get to their companion.

"I had no choice," Wu reiterated what they all knew, and neither detective gave him any argument.

"Stay here, call it in," Nick told him deceptively calmly.

He and Hank backtracked to the apartment unit to check on Betty; when they returned, however, she wasn't freaking out or crying any longer. Quite the opposite: she was dutifully typing on another of the computers, and she didn't pause when she saw them.

Nick frowned as he scanned the various screens.

"What are you doing?"

"She's deleting the files," Hank answered for him, consternation evident on his weathered features. The way she'd behaved earlier had made them believe she was under duress-now it seemed like she was willingly involved.

"Get away from the computer!" Nick instructed harshly, advancing on her. She didn't look the least bit intimidated, simply completing her task before straightening to meet him head-on.

"Not even a Grimm can stop what's coming," she sneered; her features changed in a Woge, too, morphing into those of a Drang-Zorn. " _Occultatum libera!_ " she chanted just before launching herself through the window.

Nick and Hank instantly ran to stop her, but by the time they got there, she'd already fallen, skull cracking on the asphalt below.

Nick gaped, reeling once again. What was that about? No Wesen had ever said that, or killed themselves rather than be apprehended by him before. And those files she'd been deleting-he could have sworn there'd been a picture of Renard among them.

That closed their case officially, but for him and Hank, there were still loose ends that weren't going to be tied up here-or at the precinct.

* * *

" _Occultatum Libera_?" Monroe quoted sceptically, carrying one of his books over to the table where they'd gathered after Nick, Hank and Wu had shown up at the spice shop and told them what they'd just witnessed. They hadn't discussed Hadrian's Wall as they'd originally planned, but Nick assumed Trubel had filled them in as she'd said she would and they were waiting for the right moment to broach the subject. First, they wanted to deal with the case.

"That was the last thing she said," Hank affirmed, still bewildered by it all. Again, even by their standards, it had been pretty insane.

Monroe frowned, mentally translating as he sat at the table next to Rosalee.

"Uhh, loosely translated, it would mean something like 'free what's hidden' or 'free the hidden."

"What does that mean?" Rosalee lifted her eyes from the book she was perusing, brows furrowing. That was pretty much how she'd looked the entire time they were telling her their story.

Monroe shrugged.

"I guess it depends on who's hidden, or what's hidden."

"It's got to be whatever group or Wesen using that symbol we told you about," Nick assumed assertively. 

Rosalee and Monroe looked at each other, both of their frowns turning defeated.

"Yeah, we're still working on that," the Fuchsbau admitted slowly, pushing her book toward the middle of the table to let all of them see it.

"There have been a lot of funky Wesen symbols over the years, so...,"

"Horns, hooves, eyeballs, tails," Rosalee listed off examples, emphasizing Monroe's comment. "Representing everything from death to fertility to war. We got the Reaper's Scythe, the Hundjagers' Verrat tattoo."

"Let's not forget my personal favourite, the wolfsangel-which still gives me nightmares," Monroe added wryly, turning to a page with the aforementioned symbol inscribed on it and seeming to have to suppress a shudder.

"Unfortunately, nothing with four lines," his wife finished, shaking her head.

There was silence while they all continued flipping through the books, searching for the symbol and what it meant; then, the Fuchsbau spoke again.

"So, Nick, Trubel came by and told us she was back and about those people you met with last night. Are you going to help them?"

"Wait, huh? What people?" Wu cut in, his frown turning into a confused one. They hadn't been able to bring him in yet, either, and to be honest. Nick had been wondering if they should. He'd only recently learned about Wesen, after all, and he wasn't sure if he could handle this.

But now that he was here, he supposed they couldn't hide it from him. Exhaling resignedly, he elucidated.

"Hank and I were approached by this woman named Chione yesterday, who brought us and Trubel to this organization that Chavez was in charge of-,"

"Chavez, the FBI agent?" Wu interrupted again, puzzlement clearly deepening rather than abating.

Hank nodded, then completed the explanation. 

"She said there was a war coming to Portland, that some Wesen were trying to take over the world or something and she needed us to help stop them."

Wu processed that, features going from baffled to wary.

"And you think Wemlinger was involved with that?"

"I don't know," Nick said truthfully, "But it can't be a coincidence that this happened right after Chavez and her friends approached us. I'm still rather tentative to work with her, though; I don't trust her, or these people she's working with."

"Yeah, we're feeling a little tentative ourselves. I mean, it doesn't sound like they're being forthcoming on how they plan to fight this war of theirs, and I, for one, would like to know what we're getting into before I help them," Monroe stated.

"Me, too," Nick agreed; he paused, though, then amended, "But if what happened today is a part of it, it might be better to have them behind us."

They all shared a contemplative glance.

"I think whatever you decide, we all decide the same thing," Rosalee declared in a demonstration of solidarity, saying pretty much what Hank had: Nick was the one they trusted. If he decided they should work with these people, they would all follow his lead.

"We are in this together," Hank added, his eyes on Nick, also resembling his previous sentiment. He would have his partner's back, no matter what.

Without meaning to, Nick inched a bit nearer to him, feeling Hank's foot brush his under the table. He appreciated the trust, but it was also a lot of pressure. He wasn't sure what he should do yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he had to make a choice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pondering maybe rewriting this so its at the trailer instead of nick's house but  
> also not much actual plot here just some griffhardt because i wanted a lull of that sort before i went to the next big event in the show

Honestly, it was kind of a miracle that Hank had gotten through the day without breaking his professional manner;If he thought it was hard pretending to be just Nick's partner before, it was nothing compared to how hard it was now that he knew Nick felt the same. All he wanted to do was kiss Nick again, to explore this new dynamic of theirs, but he knew they couldn't do that in public-not if they wanted to keep it on the down low like they'd decided.

Luckily, their job had provided him with a decent distraction-Paul Wemlinger AKA Simon Kincaid had been uniquely challenging to deal with-but it had also presented Hank with a new problem. He'd previously worried about Nick whenever he'd gone off on his own to chase a Wesen, but again now that they weren't just partners, his concern had turned into full-blown anxiety about whether the younger man would be safe and it had only been alleviated when he'd arrived at the scene of the marshals' murder and seen for himself that Nick was unharmed.

It had also helped when they caught their murderer; however, when they were at the spice shop, he'd been able to tell that Nick was still feeling tension for a different reason. Probably pressure from being the one who had to choose for all of them whether or not to work with Hadrian's Wall.

Hank felt bad for that. He didn't want to be heaping all that onto Nick, but since he was sort of the reason they were all involved in this, it was sadly unavoidable.

Still, he wished there was some way he could support Nick, something he could say or do to make it easier to bear. He _had_ ideas, but none that were viable with their friends in the room, so he'd contented himself with that small, friendly touch that no one could see.

Even just that brief contact stayed with him after they'd departed the spice shop and separated, and remained with him once he'd returned home and gotten into bed. That wasn't an alien sensation-he'd had many sleepless nights plagued by thoughts and dreams of Nick over the past few years. However, now that he had real-life experiences fueling them, they were definitely a lot more tactile, a lot more...intense. That one kiss and that night sleeping beside him was branded in his memory and in his skin.

At least, he could do something about it; at least now he knew he wasn't the only one having these feelings.

Since they both had the next day off, Hank drove over to Nick's in the afternoon. He didn't have a plan of any kind-he just wanted to see him, and hopefully get to spend some time with him in private.

It wasn't as if it were the first time he'd been at Nick's without any serious reason, but this time didn't feel like just a casual visit, either. It felt almost like a date or something, and that caused Hank to actually be a little nervous as he knocked on Nick's door.

Nick answered it pretty quickly, a surprised but pleased flush suffusing his pale features at the sight of his partner.

"Hank, hey," he greeted him amiably."What's up?"

Hank licked his lips, trying to appear calmer than he was as he returned it.

"Nothing, I just wanted to come by and see you," he said truthfully, hands retreating into the pockets of his gray coat. He peered into the house from the doorway. "Juliette around?"

Comprehension dawned on Nick's face, and the redness on his face increased as he shook his head.

"No, she's at work, and Trubel's out at the trailer so." He trailed off, stepping aside to allow Hank to enter.

The elder man passed him, crossing the threshold into the living room, able to relax at least a fraction once he realized what Nick implied: they were alone.

"Did you and Trubel get to talk anymore about Chavez and HW?" he wondered, unnaturally aware of Nick behind him as he sat down on his couch.

"Yeah," Nick said, meeting his enquiring gaze after shutting the front door. "I told her about Wemlinger and what Monroe and Rosalee said when I got home. That actually seemed to make her more intent on being part of it, though."

Hank was silent, processing. He could see why Trubel would have that reaction: what Wemlinger had done, seeing how brutally he'd murdered those marshals, he didn't want anyone else to have to suffer that-and if Hadrian's Wall really could prevent it, then he would be more inclined to join, too.

On the other hand, he heard the unconcealed discomfiture in Nick's voice and deduced that he wasn't on the same page still. That, conversely, lessened Hank's willingness; he wouldn't do anything that Nick wasn't cool with.

"You haven't given anymore thought as to whether you want to work with them?"he asked carefully, reading between the lines.

Nick shook his head a second time.

"This doesn't just affect me; like Monroe said last night, I think we need to know more about how they plan to fight this war before we commit."

Hank nodded; he understood that view, too.

"You think they might be willing to give us more details before we decide?"

"Not sure, and they didn't leave us a way to contact them to ask," Nick spread his palms, leaning against the support beam next to him.

Silence fell between them as Hank watched him, not liking the frown that was returning to his forehead. He hadn't really come here to discuss HW; it had just been a stall while he figured out how to raise the subject he really wanted to talk about.

And the way Nick was looking back at him, he'd daresay the younger man was thinking about the same subject.

"That's not really what I came here to say," Hank again thought honesty was the best policy, the barest trace of a smile creeping over his mouth.

He took his hands out of his pockets as Nick ambled over to join him on the couch, feeling his pulse speed up when he did so close enough that their legs were touching. 

"Okay, so what did you want to say?"

Hank took a deep breath.  
"How," he started slowly, swallowing around a suddenly dry mouth-god, he felt like a teenager trying to ask someone out or something for the first time, "How do you want to do this-us? Assuming you still want to, of course,"

Nick didn't answer immediately, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants and also heaving a measured inhale.

"I don't know," he stated softly after a long beat. "I've never really had what you'd call a _secret_ relationship before. And because it's you, and with everything else that's going on...I'm not sure what to do."

That was pretty much how Hank felt. Nick wasn't the same as anyone else he'd been with before, and considering he was still with Juliette and now the whole deal with this Wesen uprising, this couldn't be handled like his previous relationships. He didn't want to push too far or wait too long-he didn't want to screw this up because he really wanted it to work.

"Well, we can start with this." He shifted closer to Nick, turning his whole body toward him and lifting a hand to cup Nick's jaw; he heard Nick's breath catch and had to ask. "Is this okay?"

Again, Nick wasn't instantly forthcoming with a response, blinking like he was checking this wasn't a dream. Hank wanted to do the same because just having Nick like this, the softness of his skin under his palm felt too good to be true; if this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up.

His heart leapt in his chest when Nick's fingers brushed his wrist and decreased the distance between them even further.

"Yes," he consented in a whisper, now near enough that Hank felt a rush of air against his lips, that he could count every single one of Nick's eyelashes. His fingers trembled along the curve of Nick's jaw with the effort it took to restrain himself from just crushing their mouths together.

"Nick," he couldn't, however, stop himself from breathing almost reverently, voice ragged as his thumb dropped to the corner of Nick's mouth. "Can I-,"

He didn't get to finish his question before Nick was already answering it, his lips capturing Hank's and sending the older man's world spinning on its axis. The unexpectedness of Nick being the one to initiate it somehow made it even more of a shock to his system than their first kiss; additionally, it was slower, almost tentative and far less hurried than the last time, giving Hank more time to enjoy it.

And boy, did he enjoy it.

He responded instantly, of course, gripping Nick's jaw tighter and pressing back enthusiastically. He felt like he was floating as Nick's mouth moved against his, caressing and exploring; he was reminded just how good Nick tasted, even better than he'd imagined through all those years of wanting him. 

Something hot and sensitive unfurled inside him as Nick's hands clamped over his shoulders to tug himself forward so they were chest-to-chest, making him burn even through his two layers of clothing. 

" _Nick_ ," he repeated his partner's name in a very uncharacteristic groan, his other hand grabbing a handful of Nick's shirt at his side, unable to stop his tongue from tracing the seam of his lips, seeking entrance.

When Nick granted it, he had to again exercise an extreme effort not to take full advantage, slipping inside delicately instead and roaming the unfamiliar cavern, running across the roof, his teeth and gums before tangling with Nick's own tongue. He felt Nick shiver with pleasure as he sank into him, a groan even more strangled than Hank's working its way from his throat.

The sound of that groan acted like a trigger, a thrill crackling up Hank's spine and spurring him on. He deepened the kiss further, hooking an ankle behind Nick's and moving almost on top of him on the couch.

Nick didn't resist, his palms moving from Hank's shoulders to smooth over his chest then over his lower back as he opened his mouth under Hank's to allow him better access.   
Hank forgot everything else at that, losing himself in nick to the point where he forgot where they were as well as all the drama they were currently dealing with-everything except the taste of nick's mouth and the sensation of the younger man arching into him.

He almost resented the need for air when it forced him to have to break away to get oxygen back into his brain because it also reminded him of their location-that they were in the house Nick shared with his girlfriend, and that she or Trubel could walk in at any moment-and that their couch probably wasn't the most romantic spot to be going this far.

"That was-we shouldn't go any further," he panted, chest heaving as he struggled to dislodge from Nick's lips and his space and sat up. "At least, not here."

That seemed to remind nick where they were, too, because he let go, working himself back upright again as well.

"You're probably right," he conceded, though with obvious reluctance, also more than a little breathless. "But that was...wow. "

Hank gave a rueful laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face to wipe off the sweat that had begun to gather there.

"My thoughts precisely," he agreed in an undertone, nudging Nick affectionately.

He saw the corners of Nick's mouth turn up as his tongue ran over them, like he was trying to get every last trace of Hank from there; he liked that notion.

He liked it even better when Nick inched toward him again and laced their fingers together.

"I think...we're going to have to play this by ear; but we should definitely do that again-and soon."

Hank squeezed his hand.

"We'll find another opportunity," he promised, already working on when that might be. "Although maybe next time we should go some place we're less likely to be caught."

The younger man was good with that-very good-although, to be blunt, being caught wasn't that much of a threat. Being interrupted, well, that was another story.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more dialogue and plot ripped from the show here; my griffhardt version of episode 5x06

Getting to kiss Hank again finally after all the tension and drama of the past couple days was like waking from a deep sleep-or slipping into one and having the best dream. (The second one was probably more apt since he'd had to mentally pinch himself to reassure that it was real)

Basically, it had been bliss; even when they'd stopped and gone to join Trubel at the trailer to research that symbol, just the reminder of having Hank there with him gave him a sense of contentment he wouldn't have had in those circumstances otherwise.

As he found out the next morning, though, for the rest of Portland, the night had been anything but bliss.

Wu called while it was still dark out with news of another unusually violent event. There was only one person killed, apparently, but that didn't make it good news.

He met his two fellow lawmen at North Denver and Kilpatrick, where the body of the victim was, and as was routine, the Sergeant gave them the summary while leading them to it.

"Looks like a gang-related rampage. Happened around midnight. This was not the only street hit; it's all over the city, three different neighbourhoods. Reports coming in are similar to what we got here. Shops were destroyed, car windows broken, general mayhem. So far, we've got one owner dead, another badly beaten, and a third missing-name of Xavier Arivaca. Owns the bakery." He indicated said bakery as he halted before the crime scene.

What Wu didn't mention that was strange was not every shops around the neighbourhood had been damaged.

"Some shops were untouched?" Nick was quick to point out as his eyes scanned the street curiously.

"Yep. Pretty random," was Wu's response, but Nick wasn't totally convinced that was true. In his experience, nothing was random, especially not when it came to murder. "This was Ken Honeycutt. Had the flower shop across from here."

Hank was frowning as he knelt down to uncover and inspect the victim. Similar to Beau Childs, Honeycutt's throat was mangled-not to the same extent, but still pretty badly. Also similar was the fact that he was rather average-looking, and he owned a flower shop-not exactly the type of person you'd think would inspire this level of wrath.

"Doesn't look gang-related to me," Hank shook his head, straightening up again, referring to the manner of death:gangs tended to use guns and were a lot cleaner than this.

That added to Nick's previous observation, and he swept his gaze over the various stores, looking for a common theme that might explain it. If this wasn't gang-related, then what was the motivation?

"Any idea why some shops were targeted and others were left alone?" he asked when he wasn't able to puzzle it out.  
  
"Nope, not according to the shop owners we've talked to; but I think I might have a theory. In the bakery." He pointed at the location a second time before setting off in that direction.

Nick and Hank fell in behind him, the elder shooting his partner a glance. Nick had a prickle of anticipation, thinking he knew where this was going.

"We have not found this mark anywhere else," Wu continued as they entered the partially lit bakery, striding to an illuminated wall near the rear-where the aforementioned mark was. "Look familiar?"

Nick stopped and let out a scoff. He was right.

"Yeah." 

It was the same four diagonal lines that had been painted on the bathroom mirror where those marshals had been killed, and that he'd seen on the screen in Hadrian's Wall's compound. He might've been willing to believe that seeing it just those two times was a coincidence, but three times? That had to mean something.

And the kidnapped baker could be involved.

"What do we know about our missing baker?"Hank wondered, obviously putting that together as well and letting out a huff of his own.

"Opened the bakery three years ago when he moved to Portland. No local family. That's all I've been able to get so far," Wu summarized concisely, which wasn't much.   
There had to be more to this than met the eye, Nick thought, examining the general detritus inside the bakery. That symbol was the key: both times he'd seen it had been at the sites of Wesen-related incidents.

"We need to find out if any of the shop owners were Wesen," he finished his train of thought aloud as he turned on his heel to exit the bakery.

"Killing's definitely Wesen," he heard Hank indicate confidently, and Nick agreed. It couldn't be anything else.

* * *

They returned to their precinct and spent several hours poring over everything officers had managed to gather on the incident thus far. Of course, nothing said which shop owners were Wesen, but Nick had learned how to read between the lines.

"Witness reports are consistent," Wu concluded almost resignedly. "All describe the same kind of violence, presumably gang-related."

"What's weird is they were all wearing black shirts," Hank noted, swinging his leg off his desk and pushing himself out of his chair. "Never heard of that as a gang uniform."

"And the vandalism was crossing gang boundaries. That doesn't make any sense," Nick added something else he'd picked out, sitting in a similar position, tilting his head at Hank as the older man refreshed his cup of coffee. It was something he'd seen him do a hundred times before, but with their last... _encounter_ still fresh in his mind, he had to refrain from getting soppy over it.

It was almost fortunate that this case was presenting him with such a conundrum.

"Same thing happened in Eugene and Seattle. Why would these gangs be working together all of a sudden?" Wu raised another issue. Nick was certain all the questions had the same answer, and it came back to that mark and whatever group was using it.

"Somebody's gotta be pulling them together, and I think it has to do with this," he pulled a picture of the mark up onto his computer, fixing his gaze on it. Monroe and Rosalee hadn't been able to find anything on it in their books, and neither he, Hank or Trubel had in his. He didn't know what it meant, and he needed to.

Hank leaned over his shoulder, both he and Wu joining him in examining the photo. 

"So far, we've seen it at the scene of a double homicide, at the headquarters of that group Chavez is trying to recruit us for, and now a kidnapping. It's all got to be connected. This isn't about gangs; these Wesen are moving toward something big." And it had to be what Chione told them: a world run by them.

And if that was right, then two of Nick's closest friends could be next.

As if summoned by that thought, the air was punctuated by the ringing of Nick's phone, the caller ID displaying Rosalee's name. Nick answered it instantly.

"Rosalee."

" _Nick, I hate to bother you, but do you know anything about all this vandalism last night?_ " the Fuchsbau's voice came through the speaker, understandably concerned.

"We're just starting the investigation. Why, you know anything?" Nick hedged; he knew she and her husband would be affected by this incident, which meant they could offer some insight into it.

" _Yeah, we know some of the people that were hit,_ " Monroe's voice joined Rosalee's, similarly fraught. " _We know the guy who's missing, and Bud-_ ,"

" _And I know the guy that was killed_ ,"the aforementioned Eisbiber cut him off, announcing his presence.

"Bud?"

" _Yeah, i'm here_ ," he confirmed, a tad unnecessarily. " _I_ _'m ready if you need me. Don't know what you might need me for, but I'm there_."

" _Nick, all the victims we know were Wesen_ ," Monroe interjected, verifying the theory Nick and his companions had been working on. This was about Wesen because of course it was.

Bud cut in again.

" _Ken was one of the nicest Eisbibers you'd ever want to know. I, uh, I went to high school with his brother._ "

"We found another one of those marks on the wall of Xavier's bakery," Nick informed them.

" _Oh, god_ ," Monroe's reaction was what he imagined now he and his wife knew what Nick meant. 

Bud, on the other hand, wouldn't get it.

" _Marks? What marks? this isn't a Wolfsangel thing again, is it?_ "he burst out, evidently freaked.

" _Bud, shh,_ " Nick heard both Monroe and Rosalee give quelling noises-as they often had to do since he tended to overreact. However, in this case, his fear might actually be appropriate.

"Where are you?" the Grimm asked, thinking that his friends might be able to offer more assistance if they had all the information.

" _We're at-_ ," the couple started to tell him, then Bud abruptly completed their answer, " _I'm at Monroe and Rosalee's house._ "

"We are on our way," Nick beckoned to Hank and they both grabbed their jackets, departing the precinct to go complete their discussion in person.

* * *

They arrived at their friends' house quicker than usual, reasoning that this was official police business so they could get away with speeding a little.

Monroe opened the door before either of them knocked and they gathered in the kitchen.

"This is what we've managed to gather," Hank started without preamble, laying out the photos they'd taken of the crime scenes on the dining table. "Around midnight, multiple neighbourhoods were attacked by groups of people, all of them wearing black shirts. Besides your friend who was kidnapped and the guy who was killed, there was one other shop owner beaten-that we know of."

Rosalee shook her head as she browsed through the pictures.

"This is unbelievable, a thing like this happening in Portland."

"Not just here. Half a dozen cities were hit," Hank corrected her, a scrunched expression coming over his dark-skinned features.

All three Wesen looked, scandalized and bewildered, at the photos now spread before them.

"Why would they kidnap Xavier? He wouldn't hurt a fly,"Rosalee quipped,confusion and dismay in her eyes as they peered at her husband-who had to add something.

"Well, he actually would hurt a fly. He's a Hasenfussige Schnecke; they think of flies as kind of a delicacy, but point taken."

"It's not a Woge you forget. God knows you want to," Bud commented wearily, pressing his fingers to his temple.

So, definitely also Wesen then, Nick assumed silently. Just like every other time that symbol had appeared.

"So, every time we've seen this mark, it's involved Wesen," he once again voiced his thoughts, a sort of narrative forming.

"And the people who were attacked, we know were Wesen," Bud put another piece in, stuttering as the unease in his bearded features grew.

"Judging by the way the florist was killed, his murderers were most likely Wesen, too," Hank tapped the picture of the murder to illustrate his point, catching onto what Nick was saying. It was Wesen on Wesen: the question was...

"So, why are Wesen attacking Wesen?" Nick finished, getting to the crux of the matter. Could it be what Chavez and her cohorts thought, that some Wesen were trying to take over the world? He rather hoped it wasn't, but had the awful feeling that it was.

"And why are they all wearing black shirts?" Monroe spoke the query Hank had earlier, as if he knew that was significant,too.

And Hank had begun to realize why.

"A coordinated effort, that's for sure."

Monroe nodded sagely, like the picture was becoming clear to him. 

" _Occultatum Libera_ ," he parroted what Betty Frame had said before she'd committed suicide, much to Nick's chagrin.

Bud turned toward him, eyes wide. "Occul-what?"

"It means 'free the hidden,"Monroe translated, meeting his stare grimly.

That only served to deepen Bud's incomprehension.

"Who's hidden?"

"The Wesen that are using that mark," Rosalee filled in.

"This is the second crime scene it's been left at that we're aware of. I'm thinking it's a warning of some kind," Nick posited. 

He took his friends' responding silence as agreement, and sensed that they were as rattled as he was by that notion.

Bud examined the symbol more closely, brows furrowing.

"Kind of looks like a claw mark, I think."

The silence continued as they considered the mark; it did, actually. Nick had had that idea before. As he'd surmised during the Wemlinger case, lots of Wesen had claws-the fact that it was being employed as an insignia made Chavez's theory even more likely.

"This could be how this group is making themselves known, ensuring that other Wesen either get in on their plans or stay out of their way," Hank proposed, compounding Nick's suggestion so it seemed more sinister.

"Plans?" Bud was clearly feeling extremely out of the loop now, eyes darting around the table for someone to explain. His companions, in turn, had a moment of silent debate about whether to tell him.

Like with Wu, Nick was on the fence. Bud was Wesen, yes, and this definitely concerned him-and he was a friend, moreover-but he also had a tendency to panic and spread his panic. And while getting the word out was probably smart, the level of alarm Bud was sure to incite was not.

The others, in contrast, seemed to be leaning toward divulging what they knew; Hank, he knew, was never really in favour of lying to their friends as he'd demonstrated recently when they'd faced a similar decision with Wu. Since he'd turned out to be right about telling him being the right thing, Nick was inclined to go along with what he thought was best-so he swallowed his misgivings and elaborated.

"We've been warned about a group of Wesen that want to control the world; we think this must be them."

"And maybe they kidnapped Xavier as an example, and that's why they killed Ken, too," Monroe said uncomfortably.

In hindsight, he probably could have omitted that part because, predictably, it shattered the minimal calm Bud had gained in the past few minutes.

"Oh, my god!" he nearly shouted, quivering in his seat. "Do you think that's what they do to Wesen who won't join them-I mean, that's crazy! Why would they want to do that? We can't run the world, I-!"

Luckily, before he could spin too out of control, Nick's cell rang again with a call from Wu. Hoping it was good news, he pressed the answer button, while Rosalee attempted to placate Bud.

"Wu, I'm putting you on speaker," he pre-empted the conversation, lowering the device and doing just that before continuing. "You got something?"

" _Yep; Xavier_ ," Wu revealed, much to all of their shock.

"He's alive?!" Rosalee exclaimed, relieved-but not entirely, not yet.

" _He's pretty beat up, but he managed to get away. We've got him under guard at the hospital-he's had the crap scared out of him_."

"Which hospital?" Nick queried, processing this new development excitedly. With a victim alive, they had another opportunity to identify the culprits and maybe discover more about their scheme or remove some of them from the equation.

" _St. Joe's._ " 

"All right, meet us there-bring the mug shots," Hank instructed before Nick ended the call.

"Xavier's alive,"Monroe exhaled, his frown finally smoothing a fraction.

Bud, like Rosalee, wasn't totally reassured-most likely because the victim he knew was still dead. "He was luckier than Ken."

Nick was sympathetic-he'd lost too many people not to be-but at that moment, he had to think about getting justice. Given how radical these Wesen were, that wasn't going to be easy.

"Monroe, Rosalee, maybe you guys should come along. If this Xavier's your friend, he could do with seeing you-and if he's too scared to identify who took him, you can help convince him," he presented, looking to his partner for support.

The older man paused in the midst of replacing his jacket over his shoulders, his gaze going to Monroe and Rosalee for their feelings. They appeared to like it, so Hank lifted his chin slightly, as if to say he trusted Nick's judgement.

"Okay, we can do that. We'll follow you there," Monroe consented as his wife stood and layed a hand on his arm.

"What about me? What should I do?"Bud also got out of his chair, wringing his hands helplessly, searching for direction.

"Go home, Bud. Take care of your family; if we need you, we'll call," Nick told him soothingly, closing his own jacket and preparing to leave.

Bud blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath.

"Okay, yeah, that's a good idea. I'll just leave it to you guys for now-you'd probably be better at dealing with this than me, anyways," he mumbled, scrambling from the kitchen to the exit. "Good luck."

They waited until Bud was gone before departing themselves, glad that at least one of them would get a reprieve. They got into their cars and drove down to the hospital Xavier was at; Wu was already there and had begun interviewing the vic on the way into his room. Nick and Hank showed just as he was saying that he'd been blindfolded the majority of the time and hadn't gotten a good look at his abductors.

"The only thing I know is they all wore black shirts," Xavier completed his synopsis with a wince, his haggard face dropping dismally.

Nick scrutinized him. What he said matched other witness reports, but it didn't really track. Xavier'd been with these criminals for hours-he had to have seen or at least heard something.

"Do you know where they took you?"

"Some old warehouse," Xavier stated hesitantly. "But it was dark, and when I got free, I just ran and ran until I saw the St. John's bridge."

"How did you escape?" Hank probed since he hadn't explained that yet.

"It was horrible. the guy watching me fell asleep; I heard him snoring and took off my hood. It was just the two of us. I picked up a brick and hit him in the head-more than once, I don't know how many times, there was a lot of blood. I took the keys, unlocked the door, and just ran until I couldn't run anymore."

Well, that avenue wasn't revealing anything. Nick decided to change, withdrawing the photo of the mark from his jacket and showing it to Xavier.

"Do you recognize this mark?"

Xavier disappointingly remained totally blank.

"No. Is that my bakery? They do that?"

"We think so," Nick said, stowing the picture away again in defeat. "Do you think you could recognize your captors?"

Xavier dropped his gaze, shoulders hunching in obvious discomfiture. "No, I can't. They'll kill me."

Hoping to impress upon him how vital it was that he take the risk, Nick played the Wesen card.

"Xavier, we know they attacked you because you're Wesen."

As most did in his situation, Xavier was thrown, beginning to hyperventilate and then Woge-ing. Even remembering what Bud had said, Nick was still rather disturbed by his transformation: not merely by his appearance-although it was rather grotesque-but by the odour. It was so oppressive, he had to avert his gaze.

But Xavier still saw that he was a Grimm. 

"I've heard about you," he stated shakily once he'd gotten himself under control.

Nick wasn't surprised-he'd apparently made quite the name for himself with the Wesen of this city. He just hoped that meant Xavier would be more likely to trust him.

"We can protect you, but we need you to identify anyone you can."

Xavier seemed to chew on that. "What would I have to do?"

"Just look at some photos," Hank told him as if it were no big deal, as Wu came forward with the book of mugshots.

"There's no hurry. Look at each one carefully; if there's anyone familiar, just tell us," Wu walked him through the task patiently, propping the book on Xavier's lap.

Perhaps it was the pressure of having all three of them watching him, or perhaps he really was that frightened because Xavier spent only about a second on the first few pages before shaking his head again.

"No."

"Do you recognize anyone?" Hank pressed a little desperately. They needed this-for more than just the case.

Nick had a moment of tension when Xavier lingered on the fourth page-but it was dashed when he once more voiced a negative. "Not on this page. I'm sorry-maybe i shouldn't do this. Maybe I just can't remember."

"Just take your time," Nick tried to be understanding because he wasn't letting this go. He'd stay there all day if that was what it took.

Thankfully, it didn't. Xavier seemed to find someone he recognized on the next page-although he didn't seem entirely certain.

"I can't be sure, but she might have been one of them."

Nick looked over and found he'd indicated a young Caucasian woman with short blonde hair and a scowl.

"Billie Trump," he read the name off the mug shot; just based off the picture, he bought that.

Xavier was obviously really reluctant because, as soon as Nick began showing interest, he reneged.

"I don't know. I just-like I said, I was blindfolded the entire time. I didn't see anyone." He turned from the book, and Nick could see him shutting down. He couldn't have that; if this woman was really one of his abductors, she could be their in to finding this group.

That was why he'd planned ahead.

"I think it's time to let Monroe and Rosalee in," he intoned out of the corner of his mouth to Wu and Hank.

Getting his meaning, Hank stepped out of the room and went to fetch their friends from the hall, where they'd been waiting for Nick's cue.

"Xavier," Rosalee greeted him as Hank lead her and her husband inside, walking around the medical instruments to embrace the patient.

"Rosalee, Monroe, what are you guys doing here?" Xavier exclaimed, raising himself slightly to return the hug.

"Oh we're so glad you're all right," the Fuchsbau exhaled gratefully, squeezing him tight before pulling back, but leaving her hand on his shoulder.

"It's terrible what they did to you," Monroe said emphatically and with no small amount of indignation on his behalf.

Hank must have thought this would work better if Monroe and Rosalee talked to Xavier alone for he got both Nick and Wu's attention and drew them outside. "Talk to you guys out here for a minute?"

Nick tailed his partner into the hall; but once out there, no words were exchanged. Nick merely used his elevated hearing to listen in on the others.

"Did you guys get hit, too?" he heard Xavier ask.

"No," Monroe denied quickly. "We came to talk to you, actually. You see, Burkhardt is a friend of ours."

Even from the other side of the wall, Xavier's unease was audible when the subject of Nick was broached. "You know he's a Grimm?"

"Yes. I helped him through all that when he first found out. He's a good guy-you can trust him." Despite the circumstances, Nick couldn't suppress a slight smile at Monroe's encouragement; he knew that was how he felt, but it was still nice to hear.

Unfortunately, Xavier wasn't moved.

"Okay, fine. They want me to pick out my kidnappers."

"Is she one of them?" Rosalee queried, presumably gesturing at the picture of Billie Trump.

What sounded like someone shifting crackled in Nick's ears before Xavier spoke again.

"I can't tell them she is. She'll know, and they'll kill me."

Nick heard Rosalee sigh.

"Xavier, you can't let them get away with this," Monroe insisted vehemently. "They kidapped you, man. What's to keep them from coming after you again?"

"You weren't the only one, either. They went after a lot of us; they even killed Ken Honeycutt. We cannot let them get away with that," Nick was glad to hear Monroe argue, and he prayed it was enough to sway his friend.

"Nick will protect you," Rosalee added firmly.

Nick's spirits were lowered more by Xavier's still skeptical response. "A Grimm will protect us?"

"I told you you can trust him," Monroe rebutted, unwavering.

"With my life?" Xavier quipped in an only marginally less dubious manner. They were getting through, Nick could tell, but it was taking a lot of wheedling. He was thankful that they were willing to do this.

"Yes. We have-many times."

There was another pause, during which all he picked up was what he perceived as Xavier attempting to control his distress; then, he asked a final time. "You really trust Burkhardt that much?"

"You think we'd be here if we didn't?" Nick was certain that would be the clincher. If it wasn't, he doubted there was much else any of them could say.

At last, he heard what he wanted to.

"All right, I'll do it." Xavier conceded.

The Grimm let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and ticked his chin at his partners.

"He did it. Let's get her into custody, follow her to her allies," he directed.

Hank and Wu aquiesced without complaint, and Nick headed back into the room to debrief their Wesen friends.

* * *

Billie Trump wasn't that hard to retrieve and they got her cuffed and into an interrogation room where Hank and Nick met to implement their plan. She didn't appear too bothered by their thinly veiled threats, though, a demeanour Nick found eerily familiar; but which wasn't going to deter him.

And yet, conversely once they established that Nick was a Grimm-and he wasn't going to kill her-and he knew what was going on, she actually did surrender a name: Dallas Cruz. 

They brought her into the captain's office, where she got Cruz on the phone so they could track his location-but he didn't remain on long enough for them to get it.

However, he did reveal where he was going to be.

"What's the Factory?" Nick interrogated shrewdly.

"The place where we meet," Billie responded evasively-and a little too aloof for the situation she was in. But they were getting somewhere, so Nick didn't examine it too closely right then.

He dropped a marker and notepad into her lap. "Draw it."

She stared at him, as if she didn't comprehend his demand. "Why?"

"Because you're taking us there." That wasn't a request.

Although Billie apparently got the idea it was because she snorted and attempted to refuse.

"No. You can't make me do that." She appealed to Renard, like he would refute them. "They can't make me do that."

She was disappointed.

"Yeah, they can," Renard retorted, Woge-ing abruptly and prompting Billie-and Wu-to recoil in their chairs.

That shook her into obeying Nick, hastily picking up the marker and pad. When she was finished drawing, Nick took it from her.

"Where is it?"

"Off North Lombard," Billie informed him, again much too carelessly than seemed appropriate, and it niggled at him; but he didn't want to hit the brakes. This was too important.

"That's the old substation," Hank observed helpfully and slightly, oblivious to the nerves plaguing his partner.

"I don't know what it was," Billie shrugged.

"Where do you meet?" Renard quizzed, and Nick brandished the pad at her again to clarify she had no choice in answering.

Billie set the marker on the page again, directing it at the left side of her amateur map.

"This building right here, we call it the Factory."

"And where are the doors?"

"There's one in the front, one in the back, and an old loading dock."

"Any windows?" Wu asked, standing and leaning over Renard's desk.

Billie raised her palms. "Only ones up high."

"Will they see you when you drive up?" Hank spoke, continuing to pump her for every bit of information. They were going to have to arm themselves well for this operation, considering what they were dealing with.

No matter how much it annoyed their source.

"Not if I park here," Billie jabbed the pen at the bottom of the page. "It's the backside of the building."

Nick pored over the sketch again, checking for anything he might be missing. He couldn't think of anything, and he concluded the meeting.

"Okay. Put her in the car, get ready to go." Wu hastened to follow that command, steering Billie out of her chair and back to her car by her arm, as Monroe and Rosalee entered the Captain's office. They'd accompanied Xavier for support while he formally identified Billie; now Nick thought they should tell them what they were doing.

"I want to go, too," Monroe resolved as soon as they had finished. "If these guys are targeting Wesen, how long before we're on that list?"

Rosalee clearly didn't like it, but she seemed to realize she wasn't going to change his mind; instead of trying, she addressed the matter of Xavier.

"What about Xavier? Are you taking him, too?"

"No, just Billie," Nick replied. He had considered bringing Xavier, but had rapidly dismissed it; he was a civilian, not one of the combative Wesen and therefore would most likely only end up getting hurt or getting in the way. "We'll have an officer taking him home."

"Why don't I do that? he's pretty shook up, and we're the ones who convinced him to do this," Rosalee proposed kindly, gazing through the window at her friend.

Nick thought that was a good option; they told Xavier of the arrangement and Rosalee took him to Monroe's car while Monroe got into Renard's. Nick and Hank got into Billie's car with her, and Wu tracked them all in a squad car.

On the drive, Nick was directly in front of Billie and he watched her in the rearview mirror. She was oddly relaxed, a sharp contrast to the fuss she'd put up in the beginning-and unusual, considering how terrible this Dallas Cruz was, according to Rosalee. that increased Nick's suspicions.

"That's Dallas' truck there," Billie pointed out the vehicle already in the area when they pulled in. the two detectives unbuckled their belts as she warned them, "You gotta walk the rest of the way."

"You're not staying in the car," Nick debunked right off the bat, yanking her from the backseat. He didn't trust what would happen if they left her behind; if this went badly, she would be accountable.

His suspicion deepened even more when she gave-in his opinion-merely token protest. "If he sees me with you, he's gonna kill me."

"Well, that's a chance we'll just have to take," it wasn't procedure, but Hank wasn't too bothered by that prospect, either, and Nick didn't think that was actually a risk.

"Ready?"Renard said as he, Wu, and Monroe sidled up toward them, their game faces on.

Nick squared his shoulders.

"Yeah," he consented, shoving Billie to the front of the queue.

She trudged dutifully across the asphalt, toward the old substation; Nick stayed close behind her, keeping his senses peeled. The instant they began their approach, he had a bad sensation; there was hardly any light and far too much open space here for his liking. Anyone could sneak up on them without too much difficulty.

Additionally, despite her earlier exclamation, their guide appeared totally nonchalant about leading them to her organization's meeting place. In fact, she seemed almost eager to arrive, setting Nick's instincts on haywire.

That was why, when Rosalee called, and Monroe announced it was a trap, he wasn't that shocked.

He was, however, on edge when Billie shouted "They know!" and Wesen started to emerge for the woodwork all around them, the night air suddenly pierced with sounds like lasers firing.

He and his companions drew their weapons, but by that time, they were surrounded. they couldn't escape-their only choice was to go ahead.

"Inside, c'mon!" the Captain barked, herding them into the rundown building Billie had gone tearing into.

Monroe burst through the door first, Nick and the others hastening afterward, dodging assaults on all sides.

" _Monroe, oh my god, what's happening_?"Nick detected Rosalee fretting on the other end of Monroe's phone, and he could relate. He had to keep checking behind him to ensure that Hank was there, that he hadn't been caught or hurt. It wasn't like Hank couldn't take care of himself, but still-he was concerned.

"I don't know. There's a lot of them," the Blutbad panted into the mouthpiece, holding his phone pressed to his ear while they struggled to navigate the unsettlingly labyrinthine complex. He was only able to hold it until a man abruptly leapt at him from an opening to his right and, as he fended the attacker off, the device dropped to the floor with a clatter.

More of the members converged on them the deeper into the factory they ventured. It was an ambush, obviously. That had to have been the plan all along-all of it had been a scheme to bring them here, and presumably kill them.

And though they were fighting back, it still looked as though they would succeed.

Eventually. Nick spotted somewhere they could take shelter: a small section at the end of the corridor they'd just traversed with another door that locked.

"This way!" He beckoned his companions into the chamber. Another Wesen dropped from the ceiling to kick him back, but Hank threw him against the wall, and Nick was able to recover without too much trouble, taking yet another down a punch to the head, clearing their path.

They managed to get inside, but even once they had, they discovered they'd really just been backed into a corner-a corner where he saw that symbol for a fourth time.

"I thought you said Xavier was your friend!" Nick rounded on Monroe: that was what didn't make sense about this. 

"He was!"

"Well they got to him," Renard surmised, having to yell to be heard over the clamour surrounding them. That was the only logical reason for Xavier to have betrayed Monroe; somehow, they'd persuaded him.

They were good-Nick would give them that-as was evidenced by how one of them broke into their shelter. Although Renard and Hank shot him before he could do anything, Nick knew it was just a matter of time before more followed. The door was locked, but he heard it rattling.

"We can't stay here," he asserted, surmising that it wouldn't hold forever-and neither would their bullet supply. They needed a strategy to make it out of this alive.

It occurred to him that that might be easier if they had Hadrian's wall behind them. The sight of that mark behind them had solidified Nick's assumption that the group they were fighting was the same one Hadrian's Wall was, which meant Chavez or one of her allies might have been able to predict this, to see that Xavier had been compromised.   
Nick would take responsibility for them not being here; he would take the chance for all of them.

"I'm going out," he threw caution to the winds, cocking his gun and beginning to inch toward the door.

"Nick-," Hank started to protest, but Nick interrupted. "Bolt the door behind me, and stay back."

"Nick!" he heard Hank call after him again, but he'd already unlocked the door and padded back into the larger space beyond. 

What he saw didn't make sense. The Wesen were no longer right outside the room where his friends were hiding; many of them were now lying prone on the floor-and instead of their previous uproar, Nick heard what he swore were screams, and was that a groan?

He didn't have to time to contemplate that because he was charged from behind barely a second later. His enhanced senses allowed him to foresee the lunge before it came and he recognized Dallas Cruz as he backhanded him across the face.

The two of them grappled briefly, but Dallas soon gained the advantage, headbutting Nick and hurling him to the ground. Nick struggled to get back up, but Dallas placed a foot on his chest, holding him down while he lifted a pipe off the floor.

He raised it, clearly about to strike Nick-Nick had braced himself for the blow-but then his arms were stopped, and he was flung into the air by some invisible force, colliding with the ceiling, then slamming into the floor with a violent, sickening crunch.

Nick jumped to his feet, scanning the inside of the building for the source of his salvation-naturally, his companions hadn't listened to him, following him into the fray, and were now mimicking him.

He wasn't as surprised as he should be when Chione's distinctive, cloaked figure materialized on the platform at the far end of the chamber, stepping into the light so they could all see her. He'd thought there was more to her than met the eye; so he didn't question how she'd known they were here, either.

She loped gracefully off the platform, pushing back her leather hood and fixing her emerald orbs on the Grimm.

"I told you: these Wesen are unlike any you've ever dealt with before-and the threat they pose is very real."

The five men glanced at one another-Renard in bafflement since he didn't know who she was or what she was talking about-while Nick's was one of concession. He believed what she said now-how could he not-and he knew they couldn't face this threat alone.

Besides Renard, the others seemed to be of the same mind, Hank going so far as to nod at him, and he exhaled heavily.

"You were right," he submitted to her with conviction. "We're in."

A grin split Chione's unglossed lips.

"Perfect. I'll tell the boss to expect you tomorrow at noon," She paused, giving what Nick swore was a glower to the Captain as she added, "But not him. Be prepared."

That was it; she vanished back into the gloom, leaving them with the mess she'd created-and leaving Nick wondering what he had just gotten them into.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some dialogue ripped from episode 5x07 so disclaimer for that   
> and just a note i'm probably not going to be posting as often because i'm going to be busy with work also it's rather difficult for me to type because i'm having finger problems so just btw

And the Captain was wondering what he'd just witnessed.

"Someone wanna tell me what the hell that was about?" he demanded, brows furrowing as he looked between his companions.

None of them were forthcoming with an explanation, once more reluctant to disclose the reality of the situation-but for different reasons than before. Although Nick was under Renard's command and they'd come to an understanding about what he was and what Nick was, he still didn't completely trust the Zauberbiest.

What was more, apparently neither did Chione since she'd just specifically stated that they leave him out of the proceedings. Nick wasn't certain why, but it was a convenient excuse to stay mute.

As was the sudden buzz of Hank's cell.

The other detective seemed to come out of a daze, withdrawing the device with a furtive look in Nick's direction.

"It's Rosalee," he said after checking the screen, concern evident as he hit the answer button. "Hey, Rosalee."

" _Where's Monroe? Are you okay? He's not answering his phone!_ "Rosalee cried through the speaker, audibly distraught.

"I'm right here honey. I'm sorry, I dropped my phone, but we're all okay," the Blutbad assuaged her worries hastily, spreading his palms with a wince.

" _Oh, my God, thank God,_ " his wife gasped, breaths wavering with the force of her relief. "Oh, my God, I was worried sick."

"Are you all right?" Monroe returned, the impact of what had just ensued evoking similar distress in him-especially given where Rosalee was right then.

Or rather, who she was with.

" _Yes, I'm still with Xavier. What do you want me to do with him?_ " Rosalee queried, a sternness entering her voice at the mention of the man who'd betrayed them.

The men on the other end of the line met gazes over the phone, another debate taking place. This was no longer really a police matter in their view: the interrogation they were going to mete out wasn't going to be within the confines of the law, so taking him to the station wasn't really an option.

"Where are you?" Renard asked.

" _In our car; he's sitting right next to me_."

"Don't let him out of your sight. We have to talk to him," the Captain directed.

" _Where?_ " 

"Precinct?" Hank suggested offhandedly, but Renard shook his head.

"No, it's not going to be that kind of questioning."

"Take him to the Spice Shop,"Monroe came up with the solution, an almost snarl contorting his mouth; Nick rarely saw him so worked up, and it wasn't very pleasant. He was glad not to be on the receiving end.

" _We're on our way,_ " Rosalee acceded.

"And if he tries anything-," Monroe warned, but his wife forestalled him.

" _Don't worry, he won't_ ," she responded fiercely.

She ended the call, and Renard addressed the other issue.

"All right, whatever's going on, we don't want to be tied to this. Fingerprint the bodies, and let's get to the Spice Shop."

Despite the awkwardness of the earlier hiccup, Nick agreed with those directions and he and the others followed without argument. Wu went to collect the fingerprints of the deceased Wesen before joining Hank and Nick in his squad car, where they followed Renard and Monroe back to their next destination.

Monroe charged into the Spice Shop first at their arrival, lunging at Xavier furiously.

"You fly-eating son of a bitch!" he growled, slamming his fist into his-former-friend's jaw. "You set us up? We tried to help you!"

Renard grabbed him, tugging him away before he could take another swing while Rosalee threw her arms around him.

"You're safe now. That's all I care about."

"Tell us the truth, or we leave you alone with Monroe," Nick stepped forward, predicting that that threat would make him spill.

He was correct, because he had Xavier stumbling over his words in his attempt to justify himself.

"Uh, I'm-I'm not-I'm not-,"

Renard clearly had no patience for his stuttering, though, dragging Xavier from his chair and bringing them nose-to-nose.

"Who set us up?"

"D-D-Dallas and B-Billie were t only ones who talked to me. They wanted me to join them," Xavier sputtered a reply, trembling from head to foot in the Zauberbiest's grasp.

"Join them? To do what?" Monroe demanded, staring, aghast, at Xavier as Renard dropped him disgustedly.

That didn't make him any less frightened; if anything, his distress only seemed to increase as he was set gracelessly back into his chair.

"It's too late. They're crazy, They can't be stopped!"  
\

"From what?" Nick queried sharply-though he was pretty sure he could guess.

His stomach clenched when Xavier said exactly what he was thinking: "From taking over! All Wesen must join. Anybody who doesn't agree with them will be killed. You don't understand-this is happening now! It's a revolution! There's no stopping them!"

Nick sighed, seeing Monroe frown over his wife's head, his arms wrapped tightly around her; Rosalee, meanwhile, gaped at Xavier in trepidation. Nick could imagine the impact this was having on them in particular.

He could also fell Renard's gaze on him, most likely wondering why this didn't seem to be news to him and Hank. Fortunately, he didn't try to pry, his focus remaining on their subject.

"Where did they take you?"

Xavier flung his arms out on either side of him cluelessly. "Some old warehouse."

"And that story about escaping, hitting someone over the head with a brick-you made that up?"Hank surmised, recognizing the similarity to his previous answer-but it had to be a lie.

"It's what they told me to say," Xavier verified his suspicion.

"Why'd they pick you, Xavier? Why didn't they kill you?"

Xavier lowered his gaze guiltily. "Because-because I know Monroe."

"What?!" Rosalee clearly couldn't believe what she'd just heard-and neither could Nick. He had that same sensation of dread he'd had at the 'Factory', like the other shoe was about to drop.

"They-they had a picture of Monroe."

Monroe's frown turned stricken. "Are you kidding me?!"

"They started asking questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"About the Grimm, because you're friends with him." Nick's disquiet worsened; he should have known. This organization knew about him, about how different he was from other Grimms, that he'd actually befriended Wesen instead of killing every one he met. Naturally, Wesen attempting to take over wouldn't allow that to go unpunished.

"This was about getting to me," he voiced the obvious conclusion in a sober whisper, tensing.

He felt Hank inch nearer to his back, not touching-not with so many other people around-but just letting Nick know that he was there for him.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

It also helped Monroe didn't look at him with blame, not even when Xavier added, "And all the people around you."

Instead, all his animosity was for the messenger.

"So, you being all afraid to pick Billie out of the lineup, that was just for show? Just so you could lure Nick into an ambush?"

"Well, I didn't know you were gonna go with him!" Xavier defended valiantly, as if that made things better.

Which, to Monroe, it obviously didn't.

"I'm sorry, is that supposed to make _you_ feel better?"

"They were gonna kill me! What was I supposed to do?"

"How about telling us the truth?!" the Blutbad exploded again, his rage at Xavier's duplicity getting the best of him, and none of the others could fault him for it. They'd be having the same reaction if this happened to them.

Xavier was working himself into such a frenzy that he was losing control.

"You-you have to help me," he inhaled shakily, the skin on his face beginning to ripple, to lose its human form.

Recognizing the signs of a Woge, Monroe's grizzled features scrunched in distaste.

"Oh, no."

"Calm down. No, no, no," Rosalee tried to head off the transformation, the prospect not anymore endearing to her than to her husband.

"They're gonna kill me," Xavier repeated, more terrified than ever, his breaths coming even faster and heavier.

"You really don't have to-,"

"Breathe, breathe!"

But Xavier couldn't contain himself, his emotions also getting out of control, fear triggering his Woge for a second time and causing everyone to exclaim with disgust.

"Oh, my goodness!" the Fuchsbau turned away, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering scent. Nick was better at concealing his reaction to the putrescence now that he was prepared for it.

The others, in contrast, were not.

"Man!" Hank was unable to keep from blurting, lifting a hand to cover his nose. "All right. Calm down."

That, and a few more tranquil inhales, got Xavier to retract.

"I am sorry," he apologized shamefully, ducking his head again.

His, for lack of a better term, jailers retreated from him, so he wouldn't hear what they discussed next.

"Um, what should we do with him?" Hank asked the obvious question, his hand falling to his side uncertainly. "He's seen these guys. We let him go, they'll kill him."

Nick's lips thinned. He, truthfully, wasn't all that fussed.

"Maybe we should let them. I mean, he did lead us into the Teutoburg Forest." And, evidently, neither was Monroe-although the reference he made went over all his companions' heads.  
"Famous ambush of the Romans by the Germanic war chief Arminius? Three Roman legions were decimated by an alliance of Germanic tribes?"he prompted when they all looked at him, nonplussed. His explanation, however, did nothing to change that, and he sighed. "Come on, it's like Rome's greatest defeat."

"You mean like the Alamo?" Hank hedged, raising an eyebrow. Nick had to repress an affectionate smile; his partner was no expert historian.

Then again, neither was he.

"Yes,close enough," Monroe accepted, dropping it.

Their aside seemed to have given Renard the time to decide on an answer.

"Let's put him in protection. I want to know everybody he came into contact with."

It seemed everyone was on board with that; Xavier could potentially help them connect some more dots before their introduction into Hadrian's Wall. Ideally, the two sources would be able to give them the full picture of who they were dealing with, and how they were going to control them.

The cops went back to Xavier, the Captain maneuvering him up from his chair.

"Where are you taking me?!" he cried, panicked.

"Some place safe," Hank answered, though without much reassurance. Xavier's peace of mind was definitely not forefront on any of their agendas.

Renard began to steer him to the shop's exit with a firm hand in his shoulder. Before they departed, Xavier tried a last time to mend things with Monroe.

"I really am sorry, Monroe-,"

"Save it," the Blutbad cut him off, raising his palm to silence him. He wasn't ready to forgive the treachery yet.

Xavier didn't get the chance to push, being lead forcefully outside by Renard and Wu.

After they were gone, Rosalee heaved a palpably harassed exhale, throwing her arms back around Monroe.

"They have your picture now; they'll be breaking our door down next."

"No, they won't,"Nick intervened resolutely, clenching his jaw. He saw the surprise in Rosalee's face at his declaration, and he hastened to elaborate. "When we were ambushed tonight, the woman who introduced us to the group Trubel told you about, she saved us-and I said we'd join them."

Rosalee arched an eyebrow.

"You did?"

"He did," Hank admitted, moving to Nick's side in a display of support. "And so did I."

"I don't expect either of you two-," Nick started to declare that he wouldn't blame them if they didn't want to accompany him, if they were still hesitant; but Monroe cut him off, too."

"Nick, what happened wasn't your fault. And if joining this group is how you think we should fight this, then I'm with you-whatever you need, I'm there."

"Me, too; like Hank said, we are in this together," Rosalee put in, eyes meeting Nick's without a trace of doubt.

This time, Nick didn't have to hide his smile. He'd expected that to be their response, but once more, hearing aloud that he could still count on them to stand with him was both pleasing and bracing. He hoped their confidence in him wasn't misplaced, and that it didn't put them in any worse danger than it already had.

"Thanks, you guys. I'll contact you tomorrow before we leave to meet Chione, and you can come if you want?" the Grimm expressed his appreciation, lowering his head humbly.

Monroe nodded.

"Yeah. Let me know when you're going, and like I said, I'm there."

Nick flicked his fingers both as consent and as a farewell, then retreated. He heard Hank bid their friends a proper goodnight before catching up.

"You okay?" he questioned softly, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

The younger man leaned into him, exhaling as he contemplated how to reply. Physically, he was fine, other than being a little sore from the fight. Emotionally, on the other hand, that was another story.

"I'm just tired," he said truthfully, rolling his neck in a stretch as they headed back to their vehicles.

Now that they were alone, and it was unlikely they would be seen, Hank clasped his hand sympathetically.

"I know; today was pretty nuts. This is getting really complicated, really fast." The corners of Nick's mouth twitched ruefully. That was an understatement-and those complications...he was concerned how much more danger it was going to put the people he cared about in.

"Do you think I made the right call?" he asked his partner, halting in his tracks to face him fully.

Hank halted as well, darting his gaze around briefly to ensure they weren't being watched before pulling Nick in close and cupping the back of his neck.

"I think...you didn't have much of a choice," he said bluntly but comfortingly. "We can't do this on our own, and you saw what that Chione woman was capable of. Having her on our side has got to be better than trying to fight these Wesen alone; it's got to give us a better chance of surviving this, and protecting the ones we love."

Nick exhaled slowly, letting his eyes slip shut and just taking solace from Hank's touch and his words. That was all he wanted: to make sure no one else died as horribly as those he'd seen so far. He didn't want to lose his friends-or the man who was currently holding him.

If working with Hadrian's Wall could prevent that, it had to be the right call.

"I hope you're right," he said in just above a whisper, gripping Hank's fingers as he squeezed Nick's neck. He sighed a second time, then forced himself to withdraw. "We should go. I should talk to Trubel, let her know my decision. She'll be happy-she's been for this since the beginning."

Hank released him a bit regretfully, and they resumed traveling back to the cars, this time getting into Renard's car-Wu had already taken off with Xavier-driving back to the station in silence.

Surprisingly, Renard didn't attempt to grill them again on the journey, and once they were there, they didn't give him a chance. They did what they needed to finish up the case, the paperwork to get Xavier in protective custody before Nick went to head home. 

As he returned to his car, though, Hank tailed him again, causing him to pause before getting in. 

"It's gonna be okay, Nick," he assured his partner. "Whatever happens, I'm going to be right beside you."

It was taking a big risk, but he moved forward then, brushing his lips against Nick's lightly.

Nick had to grab Hank's jacket to steady himself at the sudden rush of heat that action elicited.

"See you tomorrow," Hank whispered, breaking it and stepping back again far too soon-though still stealing Nick's breath.

"See you tomorrow," he panted, running his fingers through his hair. He saw Hank give him a small, fleeting grin before leaving, thus prompting him to enter his car and get on the road home.

He could hear Juliette in their room when he came inside, and inferred that she was still awake; but instead of going right up to her, he went to the guest room across the hall-Trubel's room, as he'd come to think of it.

The female Grimm was also awake, rising instantly upon seeing her door swing inward.

"Hey," she greeted Nick, youthful features turning curious at his expression. "What's going on?"

"We were attacked tonight," he informed her grimly, venturing further inside and closing the door behind him. "A friend of Monroe's betrayed him and lured us into an ambush by that group Chavez's is fighting." He saw Trubel's eyes widen, and he forestalled her unspoken question. "We're all fine. that Chione woman saved us; but it made me realize that stopping this uprising is going to require more force than just the police, so I said we'd join Hadrian's Wall."

Trubel wasn't immediately forthcoming with a response, sitting up straighter on her bed and scrutinizing Nick as if she couldn't believe what he'd said. 

"Really? I didn't think you'd say yes; but I think you made the right choice, Nick. I know you and Hank and them are no slouches, but if this revolution is happening on the scale that Meisner guy described, I don't think it's going to be as easy to fight as other Wesen we've encountered."

Nick conceded the point.

"I know. that's why we're going back to talk to them tomorrow with everyone, and that includes you."

"Just tell me when," Trubel acquiesced firmly. then, something else seemed to occur to her and she added, "What are you going to tell Juliette? She's going to wonder what we're doing."

"I've thought about that," Nick rubbed the back of his head contemplatively. "I think it's too dangerous to tell her about HW, but we can't keep her completely in the dark. This group might come after her like they did Monroe, so she should be on her guard."

Trubel inclined her head like she respected his logic. Nick assumed she would want to protect Juliette as much as he did-maybe even more so-for even though he was no longer in love with her, that didn't mean he wanted her dead or injured.

"Okay. I'll go along with whatever you think is best."

The elder Grimm tilted his head toward her, grateful that she saw it his way.

"Well, I guess I should have that conversation sooner than later. I'll let you know before we leave tomorrow. Have a good night."

"You, too-and good luck," the dark-haired woman returned the sentiment with another fleeting smile before Nick exited her bedroom, crossing the hall to his own.

Juliette was folding laundry over their bed; her attention, naturally, shifted away from the task at the sound of Nick's entrance.

"Hey," she said, her tone far less cheerful than he'd ever heard it-not that he was offended-setting the clothes in her arms down. "You're home earlier than usual. How was your day?"

Nick pressed his lips together briefly, considering how best to impart what he had to tell her. It wasn't going to be easy, concealing half the story; but he was going to have to make it work.

"Did you see the news report about all that vandalism last night?" he started, and once Juliette had given him a wary "yeah", he continued. "We were investigating the-probable-angle of it being Wesen, and we were right. The guy who was kidnapped was a friend of Monroe and Rosalee's and he was taken because the group who was responsible wanted to use him to lead me-and him-into an ambush."

Juliette's pale face turned troubled.

"What? Oh, my god. Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Nick lifted a placating hand. "We're all fine; but this-this was just a symptom of a bigger problem. These Wesen, they're part of a group that's trying to take control of everything."

He knew that wouldn't make her feel better-it didn't make him feel that great, either-but it was the truth.

"They know about me, and that Monroe's friends with me. I'm going to do whatever I can to stop them, but you need to be careful. They could come after you to get to me, too."

He could see Juliette processing that, a lot of different emotions cycling through her eyes; he could tell she wasn't happy hearing that she might be in danger because of what he was, that her life might be once again affected by it. He wondered if she knew he'd left a few things out.

If she could, she didn't call him on it.

"I'll be careful," she promised after a pregnant pause, resuming her previous activity with a censuring glance. "How worried do I need to be?"

Nick removed his jacket, going to hang it in their closet as he weighed the question. At least, he could be honest about this.

"I think we all need to be _very_ worried."

He went to change his clothes and eat something before going to bed while Juliette finished putting away the laundry; the entire time leading to when they went to sleep, Nick was thinking about the meeting he'd agreed to and how he wished it was Hank beside him.

* * *

Nick rose rather early again the following morning-only a few hours before the scheduled event-and, not wanting to wake Juliette, he edged out of bed silently, dressing and going downstairs to make coffee.

Circumstances seemed to have settled down for now-thank god-but he thought it was just a matter of time before they ramped up again. Revolutions didn't usually take breaks.

That was why it was good he was getting to HW today-the sooner he had a plan to take on these Wesen, the safer he and his friends would be.

As he drove to work, he found himself pondering how Chavez and her friends seemed to be the only authority on what they were facing; however, he wasn't certain what their methods of handling it would be. their leader had kidnapped Trubel and Woge'd right in front of her, and she was an FBI agent working undercover with antoher organization...she was playing a very precarious game, and he didn't want it to blow back on them.

The other woman, Chione, too, she had power like nothing Nick had ever witnessed before. Similar to a Hexenbiest's, but somehow he didn't believe that was what she was-which clearly begged the question:what was she?And what was her stake in this?

That was just one of the many inquiries he intended to find answers to today.

Hank was waiting for him by his usual parking spot as he reached the precinct, hands in the pockets of his brown jacket and dark features unreadable.

"Morning," he said amiably when Nick joined him on the kerb. "How'd it go with Trubel?"

Nick shrugged.

"Pretty much like I expected. I think she really believes this is the best way to fight what's happening." He was silent for a beat, then decided there was something else Hank should know. "I told Juliette what's going on. Not about Hadrian's Wall, or that we're planning to team up with them, but about the Wesen uprising. I thought she should be warned, in case they come after her or one of her friends like with Xavier and Monroe."

His partner didn't look angry; on the contrary, he seemed totally sympathetic.

"I get it. It's not like I want Juliette dead or anything. She still deserves a chance to protect herself."

The younger man repressed a laugh at Hank's bad joke; he knew he was making light of the situation so Nick would relax-and it worked.

The two of them started for the station, the conversation taking a brief lull before Hank raised a different subject.

"So, about this meeting today-are we taking Wu?"

Nick shook his head noncommittally as they went through the front doors.

"Do you think we should? It might look kind of suspicious, all three of us missing from the station at once without having a case as an excuse."

Hank paused, weighing the decision.

"Maybe, but you know he's going to want to come. He's not going to want to be left behind."

"I know," Nick sighed, hunching his shoulders. Hank was right: Wu wouldn't want to stay here while they went off with this unknown group-he wouldn't want to be left out after what happened the last time. To be honest, after that, Nick didn't want to leave him out again, either.

"We're going to have to come up with a plausible explanation for the captain; maybe he'll provide us with an alibi."

"Well, we better do that quick because here he comes." As if called by his words, Hank's head turned in time to see Renard beelining for them before they'd even sat down.

"I'd like to see the two of you in my office," he said, not bothering with pleasantries; it wasn't a request.

Nick and Hank shared a tense glance before complying, following their boss into his office and taking up positions on opposite sides of his desk.

"Who was that woman last night? How did she know where to find us? And what did she save our lives to get you to agree to?"

The Captain wasn't like Wu; he wasn't a close friend-but he wasn't an enemy, either. He'd covered for Nick, and helped him in some tight spots, as well as his friends. However, even with that in mind, Nick still wasn't certain he could trust him with a secret of this magnitude-and he couldn't forget that Chione hadn't wanted to let him in.

Hank, in contrast, appeared to ponder what to tell him-because he knew they had to say something. Renard wasn't likely to just let this go, especially after the previous night.

Like with Juliette, Nick elected to only give part of the story-the part without the secret government organization.

"She's someone we met recently, and she warned us about this revolution. She wanted our help fighting it, and now we've seen the proof and we know what she can do, I thought we should."

As usual, Renard was inscrutable while that sunk in. He was probably more aware that Nick had omitted some information than Juliette, and he didn't just accept it.

"How do you know you can trust her? She could actually be working for these people and just staged the whole thing to gain your trust."

Nick had considered that already, and he thought it would be a lot of trouble to go through just to get rid of two Grimms; but that wasn't what he said to Renard.

"Well, if that's the case, we'll find out today: you heard her say to meet her at noon. We're gonna bring Wu, Monroe, and Trubel, so I think we'll be able to get out okay even if you're right."

"Even with how she took down all those Wesen by herself?" the Captain retorted dubiously, evidently not convinced by Nick's confident declaration.

Understandable since that had been a bald-faced lie.

"We'll manage somehow." Again, not that he was going to admit it.

Their boss stared from him Hank, his weathered features contorted with unconcealed scepticism. But he didn't argue anymore: he conceded that Nick had a way of wriggling out of bad situations.

"Fine. I'll make sure nobody notices your absence; but when you return, you're going to tell me everything you're not now."

Nick could agree to that; by the time they returned, he should have a better cover story.

"Will do, Captain," Hank acceded for both of them politely. Once he'd done so, Renard jerked his chin in a dismissal, and the two detectives exited.

The remaining time passed with them finishing some paperwork; Wu came to join them when it was closing in on noon and the three of them left the precinct together, Nick texting Monroe and Trubel to let them know they were leaving.

At the same time as he received Monroe's reply, another text materialized-with no name or number attached-saying ' _Park further away this time._ '

"What?" Hank asked curiously, seeing his eyebrow arch at his phone as they got on the road.

Nick turned the device toward Hank so he could read the message.

The older man wasn't as bemused by it as he was. "They probably assume that we're being watched now and doesn't want us to accidentally betray their location."

"We are kind of on their radar-or at least, you are,"Wu pointed out, and Nick couldn't dispute that.

"Okay," He leaned back in his seat, summoning a strategy that would adhere to that advice. I guess we'll leave the car about a block away and then walk from there. It'll take longer, but it'll make it harder for anyone to follow."

His friends nodded, continuing silently on the drive to Monroe's

The Blutbad was already outside, stationed by his front door with his jacket on. He was fidgeting, rocking on the balls of his feet and looking up alertly at every passing car. His lips curved in a tentative smile when he finally saw Nick's.

"Hey. So, this is it, right? We're really going to do this?" he said, rushing over and sliding into the back beside Wu.

"Yes," Nick said, scrutinizing him over his shoulder for any signs of misgivings. "You know, if you want to stay, if you've changed your mind..."

"No, I still want to go," Monroe shook his head aggressively, buckling in and gesturing for them to drive. "I'm just, you know, a little nervous. I've never really been big on groups, as I'm sure I've mentioned before-especially not ones like this."

"Us, neither. But I think if we want to limit the damage these Wesen inflict, we're going to have to get used to it," Hank commented, essentially voicing what Nick was thinking. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

They stopped at Nick's house to retrieve Trubel-who, like Monroe, had readied herself ahead of time-and then steered in the direction of that compound they'd visited the other night.

As that mysterious text had advised, Hank parked on the street about a block away and the group got out to walk the remainder of the distance.

There was no one waiting for them this time, but almost as soon as they approached, the wall separated to admit them once more.

"I'm glad you finally see things our way," Chione's distinctive and now familiar accent was the first voice they heard-after that loud klaxon heralding the switching on of the lights. The other woman sauntered into the entrance chamber, another dark green cloak trailing behind her her, its mottled texture a sharp complement to the gleam in her eyes. "Detectives, Ms.Rubel-and I'm guessing you're Monroe? My condolences for what happened with Mr. Arivaca."

The Blutbad's nostrils flared slightly, but his expression was rather mixed, like he didn't know what to make of Chione or this situation.

Chione apparently didn't expect an answer because she was already moving on.

"I'm happy you're here, though. I think you'll be just as integral to stopping Black Claw as the Grimm-,"

"Black Claw?" Nick interrupted, eyebrow cocking.

Chione's smile dropped.

"It's what they call themselves, this group leading this conquest," she explained soberly, half-watching her companions while leading them down the same path Hank, Nick and Trubel had gone their first visit:up to the nerve center through the elevator. "It's why their insignia is a claw mark-meant to be intimidating, I suppose."

So, it really was a claw mark. Nick had to stifle a scoff; well it was certainly succeeding in that regard.

"What are you guys doing to stop them?" Hank piped up from Nick's right.

Chione didn't reply immediately, pausing at the steel gate to the room with all the computers and the projection screen while the guards held it for them. Chavez wasn't there, Nick noticed, though that wasn't much a shock-she was most likely at the office, he assumed.

"This has been going on all over the world-and mostly, we've been doing our best to protect the _Kehrseite_ from being collateral damage," She lifted the tablet that seemed to control the images on the screen and switched it to a shot they all recognized: the symbol of the four lines over a gored body. "These Wesen aren't exactly willing to be reasoned with, though, so for the most part, we've had to take them out. Not that we've always been able to-we've lost quite a few good members in the process."

The Grimm pressed his lips. He'd been afraid of that.

"Is that why you want Grimms on your side-to make that less likely?" Trubel wondered, a touch uneasily.

"Yes," Chione confirmed without pretense. "And we've gotten a few with that motivation, but we specifically want you and Burkhardt because you are unique. You've befriended Wesen, as exemplified by present company." She inclined her head at Monroe. "And you can be an influence, to persuade less Wesen to flock to Black Claw's cause-and your human friends here and display that it is possible to live in harmony."

Nick exhaled soundlessly as he realized why they were here: not merely to fight, but to be leaders, to convince other Wesen to make peace with both humans and Grimms-and for other Grimms to return the favour. That had never been his intention, but if being a role model could help mitigate the destruction or even derail this whole war before it got any worse, then he was willing to go along with it.

He eyed his friends, hoping they would be on the same page. Trubel appeared so, as did Monroe; Hank and Wu, on the other hand, looked on the fence. He wasn't sure why, but he thought perhaps Chione could do a little more convincing.

"Okay, but we are going to have to do some of what Grimms are supposed to, right?"

Chione pursed her lips.

"Sadly, yes. As I said, most of our enemies aren't willing to be swayed to your methods-they would rather die than give up the chance for supremacy."

The elder Grimm lifted his chin. He wasn't surprised, and while he didn't like the idea of having to kill any Wesen, he had before-and he would again, if he had to.

Trubel was nodding slowly, flexing her gloved her fingers at her sides.

"What about your boss? She's Wesen, isn't she? Why is she leading you against this Black Claw?" she wondered.

"Because she and we want to protect the humans, not rule them," another accented male voice replied, and Nick looked to catch sight of Meisner coming through the gate, a fierce expression on his tawny features.

All of his companions looked 'round, too, watching him amble into the ops center to stand by Chione.

"You know she's an FBI agent; well, she became one precisely to prevent incidents such as what we're facing now. She doesn't want to change the status quo-she keeps the government free of dangerous Wesen influence, as she told you." He tilted his head in Trubel's direction.

The five newcomers met gazes again. Nick wasn't 100% he believed that-not yet-but he was getting there. That explained Chavez's motives. However, he still wondered about the other woman's.

"What about you? How did you save us, and why?"

Chione's mouth quirked slightly.

"I'm an experiment. I was human, and shortly before this revolution got on our radar, I was dying, The resistance was to create a weapon to defeat the Royals, and they came to me, offering to splice my DNA with a Hexenbiests to test if it would help and maybe save me," she explained,. not bothering to sugarcoat. "They succeeded, and when Black Claw happened, the Resistance allied with Hadrian's Wall. That's how I met Meisner."

Nick's gaze shifted to the German man at the implication of that sentence.

"You worked with the Resistance?"

"I did," Meisner affirmed. "But this is bigger than that. What Black Claw wants is beyond anything the Royals have done; that's the other reason we want your help. Even we aren't enough to ensure everyone survives this."

Nick inhaled deeply, taking that in and again looking to his companions, who all gave him the same supportive glances that said it was up to him. Well, he'd already made his decision.

"We're in," he repeated, this time with almost absolute conviction. Now he knew more about who he would be working with, and what their methods were-that killing wasn't their first move-he could fully commit. "Whatever you need."

The two Hadrian's Wall members shared twin looks of relief.

"Thank you," Chione said sincerely before resuming her previous businesslike manner, lifting several touchscreen phones of the oddly shaped table-which Nick was pretty sure hadn't been there a moment ago-and handing one to each of them. "These are how we'll be contacting you for your assignments. No one else buy you will be able to use them because you'll have to scan your fingerprint to make or answer a call. We'll keep the missions local to start for you cops: we know you have jobs and covers to maintain. However, Ms. Rubel-may I call you Trubel?"

Trubel blinked, like it was the first time she'd been asked. "Uh, yeah. That's what everyone calls me."

The older woman shot her a brief grin, then continued. "Trubel if you're amenable, we may need to send you out of town from time to time."

Nick wasn't very happy at that-after all he'd just gotten her back. But he knew it wasn't his choice.

"I'm ready-like Nick said, whatever it takes," Trubel accepted, standing slightly straighter.

"What are we going to be doing on these assignments?" Wu asked with a little less wariness than Nick would have expected.

Meisner addressed that one.

"Our first priority is information. We want to know Black Claw's plans and their targets. As well, though, sometimes there might be extractions or cleanups; unfortunately, you won't know until you get there. It's in the best interests of keeping our operations under wraps."

Though that wasn't very encouraging, it was understandable: if they didn't know what they were doing before they did it, neither would their enemies.

There were other matters to address, but before anyone else could speak, Hank's regular phone rang in his pocket.

"Sorry," he apologized, looking at the screen. "It's the precinct. I should take it." He pressed the answer button. "Griffin."

" _Somebody got to Xavier,_ " Nick was able to make out Renard's voice state bluntly. _"It was Wesen-I saw them Woge right in front of the jailer-and they left that mark from your previous crime scenes on the cell wall."_

He saw consternation consume Hank's face as he lowered his phone and report what he'd just heard.

"Xavier was murdered by a Wesen who Woge'd in front of the guard."

"Like on purpose?" Monroe's eyes widened, clearly shocked.

"It sounds like," Hank said flatly, switching his attention to Nick. "We have to take care of this."

Monroe was shaking his head disapprovingly, and Nick thought he knew what he was thinking and he agreed.

"Sorry," he apologized as well, advancing toward Hank who was turning on his heel.

"Xavier-that's the guy Black Claw used to lead you into that attack last night," Meisner guessed startling accurately; he paused, then seemed to divine something. "This was a hit; they were tying up loose ends."

"Then that makes it even more urgent that we start fighting back," Nick asserted, setting his jaw. "Whenever you need us, we're ready."

"Good," Chione flicked her fingers, granting them leave. "We'll be in touch."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more dialogue ripped from 5x07 but just the scene with the Wesen Council and also amended to include another OC because i wanted to add another Grimm into the mix. i might change it later to someone we've already heard of but for now it's an OC  
> and mainly a monrosalee chapter

As they drove away from the building this time, there was a different atmosphere in the car; they were all processing what they'd learned, and what they'd gotten themselves into. None of them were having second thoughts, but Monroe in particular was having a hell of a time coming to grips with what he now knew had been happening right underneath his nose.

Because of that, there wasn't a whole lot of chatter-until Wu could no longer stand the tension.

"So, that was interesting," the sergeant observed facetiously, eyebrows quirked, saying exactly what Monroe was thinking.

The Blutbad gave a rueful laugh.

"Yeah, no kidding," he agreed a little more seriously, weathered forehead creased and gaze darting around at all his companions. "That all seemed very cloak and dagger."

"Well, I had a feeling that that was what we were signing up for," Nick commented from the driver's seat. "After that first meeting and seeing firsthand how this Black Claw operates, I figured this would all have to be on the down low, and I think that's the only way to deal with this. But I don't expect either of you to go along with it if you're not comfortable."

Monroe had already made his peace with this course of action, and Wu's response made it clear that comfort wasn't his issue.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying, what we do for HW is probably going to push outside usual police procedure, and while I'm fine with that, I'm just wondering what we're going to tell the Captain."

That wasn't something Monroe had to think about, so he wasn't curious to hear; his current concern was how best to explain the encounter to Rosalee. Besides the news about Black Claw, there was also Xavier's murder-which was not something he was looking forward to sharing. The Hasenfussige Schnecke might have betrayed them, but he'd still been their friend; he hadn't wanted him dead.

"I think we're going to have to tell him at least some of the truth if we expect him to cover for us when we go on missions-and we might need his help," Hank thought of the solution to the lawmen's problem, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug.

"What about Juliette?" Trubel broached another delicate subject from her spot beside Monroe, and that was something Monroe was curious about. Nick's girlfriend was his friend, too, and he didn't want to have to lie to her or accidentally tell her something that Nick hadn't; he'd already been through that once and it had not been fun. "She's going to realize something's up if I have to go out of town, or if you guys start disappearing for non-police work."

The other Grimm wasn't immediately forthcoming with an answer, and Monroe saw him bite the inside of his cheek as if this wasn't a question he really wanted to address-but knew he had to.

"Well, if we bring the Captain in somewhat, I can still use cases as an excuse-sometimes when I'm on a particularly difficult one, she won't see me for days-and as for you, maybe we can find you a job that will provide the same leeway."

Trubel rolled her lips under, probably not too keen on the prospect of telling more lies; Monroe wondered why Nick didn't want to tell Juliette the entire story, but he trusted that his friend was doing what he thought was best. And Trubel seemed to come to the same conclusion because she eventually gave a reluctant nod.

"I should probably get some kind of job, anyways. I can't just keep living off you and Juliette, expecting you to pay my way. Not that I don't appreciate it, of course, but I should learn to take care of myself again."

Monroe noticed that Nick chose not to pass comment on this, and he could guess why. In the short time she'd been a part of their lives, Nick-and the rest of them-had all come to consider the younger Grimm family, so it just felt natural to be taking care of her.

Before silence could take over again, he spoke up.

"Well, now that that's settled, would you mind dropping me off at the Spice Shop? I should probably go talk to Rosalee, tell her everything."

Appearing grateful for the switch of topic, Nick nodded, shifting onto the route that would take them to that destination.

"Of course."

"Thanks," Monroe said before allowing quiet to descend once more so he could ponder what he would say.

His wife was with a customer when he arrived, but he saw her look up as he entered and noticed that she definitely hurried the transaction along, impatient to hear what had happened.

After the elderly woman had departed with her her purchase, Monroe locked the door and switched the sign to 'CLOSED' to give them some privacy.

"How was it?" Rosalee asked without further preamble.

Monroe gave a noncommittal jerk of his head.

"It was, you know, a little intense, a little intimidating-a little bit of both. But it got kind of sidetracked when Xavier was killed."

"What?!" Rosalee gasped, horrified as Monroe had expected her to be.

"Yeah, and that's not even the worst part," the Blutbad inhaled shakily. "The guy who killed him was Wesen, and he Woged in the jail in front of a guard-intentionally."

Rosalee's eyes bugged out.

"That is not good."

"No, it's not. Look, I think we should tell the Wesen Council about this," Monroe suggested. He'd been hesitant to go there, but hearing how Xavier had been killed had pushed it over the edge. Wesen couldn't just go around Woge-ing willy-nilly in front of people; the Wesen Council had to get involved.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. They need to know what's going on," his wife consented firmly, clomping to the rear of the store to perform that very task.

Monroe trailed after her, shutting the other door behind him while Rosalee dialed the number off the card she kept hidden with her brother's things.

The line rang several times before a familiar cultured, accented voice reverberated in her ear.

" _State your name."_

"Hello, this is Rosalee Calvert," the Fuchsbau spoke, enunciating every syllable clearly.

The Council Responder processed her words and then replied in the same official tone.

" _Rosalee Calvert, your identity has been confirmed. What are you reporting?"_

"I need to speak to the Wesen Council. Please call me back as soon as possible; it's an emergency," she declared urgently, trying to remain courteous.

She knew what would come next, so she wasn't disappointed when all she heard in return was " _The Council will review your request_ " before the call was ended.

Monroe paced back and forth around her, making distressed noises under his breath as Rosalee sighed. He knew that was the best they were going to get for the time being; still, he couldn't help feeling a little frustrated.

They tried to reopen the shop for a while longer to distract themselves from the anxiety of waiting for the Council's call, but it didn't work-they could barely concentrate.

Fortunately, it wasn't too long before Rosalee's phone rang.

"I think that's the Council," she said in anticipation, and Monroe hastened to lock the shop again while she rushed to pick up. "This is Rosalee Calvert."

" _It's Alexander_ ," the voice of the only Council member they knew by name responded. " _What are you reporting?"_

Rosalee put the call on speaker so Monroe could listen in, then informed, "A number of Wesen shop owners were targeted by Wesen the other night."

" _In Portland?_ " Alexander quipped dubiously, showing some emotion finally, albeit not an encouraging one.

Monroe and Rosalee weren't ruffled; they wouldn't believe it, either, if they hadn't witnessed it.

"Yes, and a lot of their shops were destroyed."

" _Was anyone killed?_ "

"One. And the same people tried to kill Nick and Monroe last night."

"And they're calling themselves Black Claw," Monroe added, prompting Rosalee to turn sharply toward him. He hadn't told her that yet.

However, from the sigh that crackled through the speaker, Alexander was already familiar with the title.

" _Schwarzkralle_ ," he stated grimly, catching Monroe and Rosalee's attention.

"So, you've heard of them?" Rosalee surmised. "We've been told that they kill Wesen who refuse to join their cause."

" _We are aware of the problem, and it's being addressed. I can't go into detail right now._ "

That did nothing to assuage either of their nerves.

"The Council needs to do something about this," the Fuchsbau insisted sternly, sounding almost scolding.

" _We are_ ," Alexander repeated vehemently, attempting to placate her; though, to be honest, really just succeeded in grating. " _I'll ring you back_."

He hung up before they could push for more detail, and Rosalee let out a harsh exhale.

"Black Claw?" she quoted, returning her gaze to her husband, eyes wide.

Monroe took a deep breath also, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't gone into detail previously because he thought talking to the Council was the more pressing thing, but now he supposed he should.

"It's what that woman, Chione, said they called themselves. It's why their mark is those four lines. Bud got it right: it is a claw."

Rosalee bit her bottom lip.

"What else did they tell you?" she queried.

Monroe approached her, taking her hands to stop them from trembling as they'd begun to.

"That they've been plotting this for a while, and that they're willing to resort to the most drastic methods to get what they want; but HW is being equally proactive about stopping them. And Nick and all of us are going to do what we can to help."

"What if that's not enough?" Rosalee shot back dismally, gripping his fingers tightly. She glanced briefly back at her phone. "Unless, maybe, do you think the council are helping them, too? If they've also been aware of Black Claw for a while..."

"If they are, no one mentioned it to us," the Blutbad shrugged cluelessly. "I guess we'll find out when he calls us back."

Little did they know that Alexander's next call wouldn't alleviate their troubles; it would mostly add to them.

* * *

On the other side of the world, the Wesen Council had congregated to discuss the very issue Rosalee had called about.

"Mounting reports from Juarez, Damascus, Istanbul and several cities in sub-Saharan Africa are coming in, equally as troubling as previous ones we've received," their leader, De Groot announced to the chamber. It was identical to other declarations he'd made inn recent meetings: the problem of Black Claw was worsening.

Another report from one of their Italian representatives emphasized that notion.

"According to our agents, the political unrest in Asia and Europe is being instigated by _Schwarzkralle_."

A murmur of discontent went through their congregation.

"They are organizing far beyond what we thought them capable of," De Groot concluded direly, peering at them over the rim of his glasses. "This threatens all of us, and it cannot be tolerated. We need to take the vote on implementing our response. Make no mistake:we are at war-and we can have no mercy on those response. All in favour?"

Every person at the table instantly raised their hands in accord.

Every person-except one.

"No." It was a male, who stood and Woge'd into a Drang-Zorn, shouting " _Occultatum Libera!_ " as he raised two assault rifles, firing on the others without mercy.

The chamber erupted into chaos, bullets ricocheting everywhere, taking down the majority of the council-including De Groot.

At first, Alexander was too stunned to move, but as the shooting began, a man clad in a hooded trenchcoat seemed to materialize behind him, seizing his elbow and tugging him to safety.

"Come with me if you want to live."

Or so he hoped.

"Who are you?" he demanded as he followed the stranger out of the conference room, extremely on edge. He couldn't see the man's face because of his hood, and he didn't recognize the voice, either.

The man didn't respond, probably focused on escaping the massacre first. Once they were in Alexander's room, however, he introduced himself-sort of.

"We don't have a lot of time; Black Claw is going to do their best to take you out, too. So, for now, all you need to know is that I'm a Grimm-and the organization I work for is doing everything they can to stop this."

Alexander was thrown to discover that his companion was a Grimm; it put him even more on guard, despite the fact that the man had just saved his life. He didn't have time to interrogate him further, though, because the distinct sound of footsteps approaching cut him off.

"Get what you need. We have to go," his saviour ordered tersely.

"Where?" Alexander couldn't refrain from prying, however, even as he scrambled to obey.

"Our base," the Grimm, surprisingly, answered, unlatching the window and scanning their surroundings, scoping out their escape route. "We can protect you there, and you must coordinate what remains of the Council's forces to fight back. Your leader was right: we are at war."

Alexander withdrew his phone as he finished gathering his necessities into a travel case, thinking he should give Rosalee a heads-up. "There's someone I should call-,"

"Not here," his companion interrupted harshly, forcing his hand down and steering Alexander to the open window. "They might have tapped it-they'll be able to track whoever you call. Our headquarters will block that; wait until we get there."

Once more, as if to add weight to his command, they were both startled by the lock on the door being shot off. That jolted Alexander into action, and he and the Grimm both clambered through the window just as their pursuers burst inside.

* * *

It was nearly evening again by the time Monroe and Rosalee received another call; needless to say, they'd found it quite challenging to focus on selling spice and tea while they waited, and Rosalee had closed the shop early to keep from making any mistakes.

She felt a leap of anticipation when her cell buzzed again.

"Is it him? Monroe's chin ticked up, straining his neck to peer at the device.

The ID on the screen wasn't a name, but a jumble of numbers, so Rosalee could only assume. "Could be." She answered it in the same formal tone she'd used earlier, "This is Rosalee Calvert." 

" _Sorry it took so long,_ " Alexander's thick accent rang out, sounding oddly hoarse, as if he had just run a great distance. " _The Council was assassinated_."

"What?!" Rosalee exclaimed before he could elaborate any further. Of all the bad news they had received recently, that was just about the worst. "How? Who would do that?"

" _It was a member of the Council-I had no idea he was Schwarzkralle_ ," Alexander heaved a heavy sigh of what Rosalee guessed was grief. " _He killed them all. It happened so fast, I only made it out because I was saved by a Grimm-a Grimm who works for a group I believe your husband has just joined._ "

"Hadrian's Wall?" Rosalee quipped, causing Monroe's eyebrows to fly up. That was one hell of a coincidence.

" _Yes_ ," Alexander confirmed matter-of-factly. Apparently, they really were everywhere-and they had other Grimms working for them. " _They are helping me get in contact with our remaining agents to retaliate against Schwarzkralle. We will be sending some to you as soon as we can organize_."

Rosalee's next sigh was one of relief. That, at least, softened the blow of the Council's annihilation.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry; we're glad you're safe," she offered her sincere condolences; Alexander may not have been her friend, but she didn't want him dead, either.

" _Let's hope we all stay that way_ ," she heard Alexander murmur, almost as if to himself-then, he added a little louder, " _I'll send further communications through Hadrian's Wall. Good luck._ "

"You, too," Rosalee echoed the sentiment before hanging up. She lowered her phone from her ear, setting it down atop the store counter, then met Monroe's inquisitive stare.

"What about HW?" he asked.

"They saved Alexander from getting assassinated-like the rest of the Council," his wife answered, stunning her husband.

"What? the Council's gone? Like completely?"

Rosalee grimaced as she nodded.

"They were infiltrated by Black Claw. Alexander only survived because HW managed to pull him out. He's with one of their other branches now, and they're going to send help here."

That just barely managed to smooth out Monroe's frown, though he tried to hide how scandalized he really was.

"Well, that's good, I guess. I mean, it's great, actually, but-," he shook his head in disbelief. "I just can't believe the council is gone. Once that gets around, it's going to be so bad. I don't even know what's going to happen."

"We should tell Nick," Rosalee declared without hesitation. She knew Nick was probably already dealing with a lot, but this was important, too.

Monroe had already arrived at that conclusion, apparently because he already had his phone out and was speed-dialing their friend.


	11. Chapter 11

Hearing that Xavier had been an unexpected and abrupt end to their introduction to Hadrian's Wall. Yes, everything had been pretty much settled-they'd consented to whatever they deemed necessary to combat Black Claw-but Nick had still been interested in finding out more about his new allies. 

The revelation that Meisner had once worked with the Resistance had been a shock, and it had sent a litany of other question streaming through his head;their Captain had, by his own admission, also worked with them once-as had Nick's mother. Nick had wanted to point that out to Hank, but he hadn't had the chance.

After dropping Monroe and Trubel off, the cops returned to the precinct to handle the hit on Xavier, finding Renard waiting for them at the entrance. He did not look happy.

"How did it happen?" Hank queried instantly upon walking into their place of business, without any preamble.

The Captain's mouth was turned down in displeasure, most likely from this having occurred right under his nose.

"We're still trying to work out the particulars, but it looks like somehow the people who attacked us knew Xavier was here and wanted to take him out before he could give us anything more," he outlined, his gaze a penetrative glower.

The three other men all looked at each other, eyes widening fractionally. That lined up with what Meisner had said when they'd left, which made this even more unsettling.  
And it got worse when Renard lead them to the scene of the crime.

"We had the killer on an assault charge; we thought he was drunk and left him to dry out while we booked him. Next thing, I heard screams: the guy had Xavier by the throat, he was Woge'd-it was a Coyotl-the guard shot him, but it was too late. He'd broken Xavier's neck."

Wu's shock morphed into bewilderment.

"But how did they know he was here if we hadn't booked him yet?"

"They must have someone on the inside," Hank figured, and they were all deeply troubled by how terrible that reality would be. A member of Black Claw on the force, reporting everything they did back to their enemies? That was going to make it even more compulsory that they keep their endeavours for Hadrian's wall under the radar-they were already in the crosshairs because of Nick being a Grimm. They didn't need to make themselves even bigger targets.

That reality seemed even more likely when they caught sight of the familiar four lines symbol etched into the wall of the cell next to where Wu had placed Xavier the previous night.

Renard's disturbed frown deepened, and he didn't remain in the cells long, taking them back to his office after only a moment

"So, the three of you know who these people are now right?" he demanded-just as Wu predicted he would-after shutting the door and striding to the front of his desk.

This time, they knew they wouldn't get away with being vague; but that still didn't mean Nick was cool with being totally transparent.

"Yes," he admitted that much, speaking for the three of them. He swept the room, covertly checking to make sure they weren't being listened to before explaining. "They call themselves Black Claw, and they are trying to take over. Not just here, but all over the world; so I'm betting this isn't the only precinct they've infiltrated."

"And this woman who told you about them, she wants you to help her stop them?" Renard interrogated further, dropping his voice an octave, also probably wary of eavesdroppers.

Nick nodded a second time; then, wanting to confirm his suspicion about Renard's link to Meisner, he decided to add,"And she has a partner, a man named Meisner."

"Meisner?" Renard repeated, the clear recognition in his tone all Nick needed to know he was right-and he wanted details.

"Yeah. You know him?"

"I do. He's an independent agent based in Europe. He _was_ working with the Resistance."

"We know. Chione told us when she introduced us to him. But he's here now," Nick told his boss, continuing to observe him closely.

Renard bit the inside of his cheek, as if he wasn't really certain how to feel about that news, which gave the impression that their relationship might go beyond just temporarily being aligned with the same organization. He didn't attempt to explore the notion, however, presuming that it wasn't something Renard would be willing to discuss.

To the point where he skipped right over any opportunity for Nick to ask, concluding the topic swiftly.

"Okay, from now on, anything about this Black Claw we deal with outside this precinct; until we know who, if anyone, is one of theirs, we have to assume everyone's been compromised," he advised authoritatively, his pale features arranged into an expression that brooked no argument. "They sent someone in here to keep us from discovering what Xavier knows. Do you think your new friends have that same knowledge?"

Though the honest answer was yes, Hadrian's Wall definitely knew a lot more about Black Claw than Xavier had., Nick wasn't prepared to share that with Renard yet. Cottoning on to his reluctance, Hank affected a shrug.

"Not sure yet. From what they've told us, they've been aware of Black Claw for a while, but they're still in the gathering intel stage. That's part of what they want us for: to help dig up more."

Renard bored holes into the senior detective as if attempting to peel him apart-as if unsure whether to take his response at face value. It was a half-truth, but he couldn't force them to give him the full truth-so he accepted Hank's statement.

"Well, I expect you to keep me posted from now on. In the meantime, we have to clean up this mess."

Recognizing that as permission to leave, the other three men gave nods of acquiescence before exiting the office in unison.

"Do we know the name of the guy who killed Xavier?" Nick asked, turning his attention to, as Renard so eloquently put it, 'cleaning up this mess' as he made his way to his desk, Hank and Wu on his heels.

The sergeant logged onto the computer and got into the precinct's record system to check on the identity of the late prisoner.

"It says we were booking him under the name Jed Wallace," he read off the report, making room around the screen for his companions. "He has a record for assaults and drunken disorderly's; he's not from here-home address is listed as Wisconsin-and there were no keys for a car or hotel found on him anywhere."

"Wisconsin? What the hell was he doing here?" Hank piped up, brows contracting.

"Working for Black Claw," Nick supplied, upper lip curling wryly. The assailant had been here for only a single purpose: to do a job. He hadn't needed to stay any longer than it took to accomplish that.

He huffed. Looking into him wasn't going to get them anywhere-he'd been nothing more than a tool.

"And now he's gone, too-he's literally a dead end," Hank stated, using that uncanny perception of his and repeating exactly what Nick was thinking. "We can't really have him stand trial for murder now, nor can we report why he really killed Xavier."

"Or explain what the guard is going to say he saw," Wu added pointedly, reminding them of yet another complication.

Hank exhaled heavily, rubbing at his temples. There wasn't a lot they could do to cover the Wesen parts of this incident with that guard crying wolf-or Coyotl, as it were; they all knew that. 

"We're going to have to talk to him, convince him that he was imagining it, or that it was a mask; we can't have him telling people what he really saw," Nick suggested the only solution he could think of. He hated making people feel like they were crazy or something, but it had to be done-the world wouldn't be able to handle the truth.

None of his companions had anything more to offer, so they acceded and went to go locate the guard who'd been watching the cells when Xavier had been killed.

Right when they'd found him, however, Nick's phone began to ring in his pocket. He lifted a hand to get them to wait while he checked it.

"It's Monroe," he revealed, consternation returning; he'd just seen the Blutbad a few hours ago, and Monroe knew what he was dealing with at work. There was no way he would be calling unless something had happened; naturally, he had to answer it. "Monroe? Is everything okay?"

" _Yes and no_ ," his friend said, tension palpable in his voice. " _We just talked to the Wesen Council, and-you need to get down to the Spice Shop as soon as you can_."

"Why? What's the matter?" Nick queried, not liking where this was headed.

" _It's Black Claw, but we can't say more over the phone_ ," Rosalee put in, her voice uncharacteristically small and frightened. That prompted Nick to grant their request without any further questions.

"All right. We're on our way." He hung up, debating what to do about the Xavier situation. They couldn't all leave, obviously, but as with most matters these days, he wanted Hank with him-if only because Hank deserved to know, too. Which left Wu. "Sorry, Wu, I think we're going to have to leave this in your hands. You think you can do it alone?"

Wu didn't appear too happy to have all this laid at his feet, but he appeared to accept it.

"I'll take care of it. You guys go ahead."

"Thanks. We'll see you later," Hank said, clapping him on the shoulder then following Nick back out the door, concern on his rugged features.

The two detectives re-entered Nick's car, taking the now very familiar route to Rosalee's work.

"What's going on?" Hank wondered.

Nick shrugged.

"They said it was something about the Wesen Council and Black Claw; from Rosalee's tone, it didn't sound good," he stated warily.

That naturally did nothing to alleviate Hank's concern, and both of them were on edge when they arrived at the Spice Shop.

"Hey, so we got good news and bad news," Monroe unknowingly compounded his suggestion by saying anxiously the second they walked inside. They could see Rosalee standing by the counter with her hands clasped in front of her in an unusually formal manner.

"The Wesen Council doesn't exist anymore," she delivered the first news after a measured breath, much to the visitors' dismay.

"What? What does that mean?" Nick exclaimed.

"They were killed by Black Claw-only they called it Schwarzkralle. It means the same thing," Monroe elaborated darkly, doing his best not to buy the lead.

He didn't, but Hank apparently wanted to focus on that addition.

"So, they knew?"

Monroe nodded.

"Yeah. Alexander said they did and that they were addressing it, but then I guess Black Claw was onto them and didn't like what they had planned, so they decided to eliminate them."

That had to be the bad. Nick had had no great love of the Council, but they'd served a purpose. Now that they were gone, who was going to police the Wesen world? Who else was going to keep a lid on their existence, to make sure they didn't terrorize the humans?

Having no one to do so was likely the very reason Black Claw had wanted them gone, he realized, discomfited. They probably wanted to be the only governing body over the Wesen, and they wouldn't want to stay secret or live in peace with the Kehrseite; everything they'd seen of Black Claw so far pointed to them wanting the complete opposite.

"You said there was good news?" Hank prodded before the mood in the shop could turn too desolate.

Monroe and Rosalee shared a glance, the woman's expression brightening a little-but only a little.

"Alexander managed to escape; apparently he was saved by an agent of Hadrian's Wall," she added. "They got him to safety, and he said they'll be sending help."

"Well, that's something, at least," Hank tried to be optimistic, but it wasn't enough to placate Monroe.

"You don't understand. Once word spreads that the Council is like gone, it'll be anarchy. We've already crossed a very dangerous line if these nuts are Woge-ing in public like the guy who killed Xavier." He was clearly panicking, and Nick couldn't blame him. this had to be turning his entire world upside down.

Rosalee was likely not faring much better-actually, she was probably doing worse, having been so closely connected to the Council-but doing a much better job of hiding it. She laid a hand on her husband's elbow.

"He's right. The Council may not have been the pinnacle of morality, but they've kept us in line. Without them, I don't even know what's going to happen," she said direly.

Nick hated seeing his friends in such a state, and he knew that, as a Grimm, it was his job to do something about it. 

"We get it," he assured them. "And you know we won't let things get too bad. _I_ won't let things go that far. You have my word."

Rosalee and Monroe had another moment of silent communication. Nick hoped it wasn't a debate about whether or not they should believe him: he would never make an empty promise like that. He would do everything in his power to ensure the Wesen world didn't descend into chaos; with the Council gone, it made sense that it would fall to the Grimms to maintain the peace.

 _Without_ cutting off anyone's head.

"Neither will I," Hank offered helpfully, a determined set to his jaw as he edged over to Nick's side. "I might not be Wesen or a Grimm, but you know I'm here for you guys,too."

That seemed to remind Monroe of something because his panic appeared to lessen as he spoke next

"This has got to matter to HW, too right? I mean, why else would they have saved Alexander? I doubt it was just to get help for us here," he declared, sounding more positive than a second ago.

He had a valid point, a point which also sparked an idea in the Grimm's head.

"Well, if it doesn't matter to them now, it will soon," he resolved. "I'll talk to them as soon as we get called in. Those agents, whoever's left of them, they have to keep order everywhere, not only in Portland. We'll take care of Black Claw here ourselves."

Hank's presence, his proximity and the confidence that he would be there for whatever he'd have to do made Nick's decision easier. However, what wasn't easy was resisting the urge to touch Hank, to show him what it meant to have him still standing by him.

That actually distracted him for a brief instant, almost causing him to miss Rosalee's appreciative smile-and Monroe's reply.

"We wanna be there. Not that we don't trust you, of course, but I just need to hear that they're going to address this for myself."

When he actually tuned into what the Blutbad said, he wasn't offended. He knew this was personal; they should be there.

"Of course. We wouldn't leave you behind."

He saw Monroe squeeze Rosalee's fingers on his arm, the tension finally bleeding out of him-not completely but at least somewhat.

"Thanks, you guys," the Fuchsbau expressed her gratitude and relief, also looking to have calmed down a lot from talking this through with them. "I think we'll all feel a lot better, knowing we have you looking out for our interests."

Nick ducked his head. They didn't have to thank him, really; it was what friends did for each other.

* * *

The detectives didn't stick around much longer once they'd worked out the particulars of what they would say to Hadrian's Wall when they next talked to them. Though it was getting late, Nick didn't return home right away; he wasn't ready to have to condense the events for Juliette, thinking he'd rather put that off and spend time with someone who was already aware of everything.

So, he chose to go to Hank's.

There was considerably less tension than when they'd been at Nick's house-since nobody was going to suddenly walk in and catch them-and recalling what occurred the previous time they were alone together didn't exactly spoil the mood, either.

Not that Nick had any expectations, or thought Hank did. He'd been really great about letting Nick set the pace of their relationship and not pushing for too much right off the bat; after crossing that mythological threshold of doing more than just kissing the other day, it was enough for Nick to just be with Hank without worrying about anyone detecting the shift in how they behaved with each other.

Like the warm contentment Nick couldn't-and didn't-suppress at having his partner sitting beside him, or the pleasure he experienced at how close Hank sat. He didn't have to be concerned about people thinking he was _too_ close.

Which was really nice. Being able to actually act like they were a couple, not having to pretend like they hadn't kissed-twice now-was honestly fantastic. And even better was that, if Juliette asked where he was, he wouldn't have to lie; since he and Hank were friends and were routinely at each other's houses, telling her he was at Hank's wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

He could relax, and not hide the his smile when Hank draped an arm across the back of the couch behind his neck.

That being said, it wasn't all happiness and rainbows. After what had occurred that day, there were serious matters on their minds, and they couldn't just ignore them.

They could, however, address them a little more lightly.

Leaning into Hank's arm, Nick withdrew the special phone that Chione had given them to examine it while his partner looked over his shoulder.

"They didn't explain how that phone is so secure," he noted, watching the device as Nick swiped his fingers across the screen to unlock it.

What came up at his touch wasn't the standard home screen. Instead, it was what looked like the machine they used to run fingerprints at the precinct, bringing a wrinkle to both their foreheads; it even said ' scan your thumbprint'.

"Whoa," Hank exclaimed in bemusement, dark brows arching. "I guess that answers that question. " He nudged Nick encouragingly. "Do it."

The Grimm paused, hesitant, wondering what would happen if he did. Was this phone linked to a database that would be used to verify his identity, or would it do something else entirely?

Throwing caution to the wind, he pressed his thumb to the scanner on the screen. He heard as well as felt it vibrate in his grip, presumably processing his print; a few seconds later, it beeped, the words ' identity sent' appearing above his finger.

Hank observed with interest as he removed his thumb. At first, nothing looked to be happening-then, the screen changed to a more familiar image:the home menu of most cellphones.

With a few disparities, though. For starters, there was no contacts icon, and when Nick tried to locate the actual number for the phone, what he found was a jumble of digits a lot longer than any he'd ever seen.

Nick sat back, the crease on his forehead deepening.

"Maybe the real reason no one else could use it is because they wouldn't figure out how," he commented, a tad frustrated at not being able to understand how the phone worked.

That earned him a chuckle from the older man, and Hank leaned forward with a thoughtful expression.

"There's just gotta be a trick to it." He extended one of his own fingers to the device, touching an icon shaped like a combination of different numbers and letters-a unique icon which neither of them had ever encountered before.

Much to Nick's surprise, that revealed a list of contacts. the first was labeled ' Emergency'; the one beneath said 'Home'-which Nick guessed meant the main headquarters, not _his_ home-and the rest were all various letters. Perhaps the names of other members, he mused, cocking his head to the side.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hank stretch over to where he'd stored his own phone-in his jacket, which was thrown over the arm of the couch-to retrieve it so he could peruse it, too.

It was pretty much an exact mirror of Nick's, except with one different contact on the list; the corner of Nick's mouth lifted as he realized-as his partner did-that that must be him.

"Huh," Nick emitted a conflicted noise; now that he knew the trick to reading the phone, he was slightly overwhelmed by _how_ encoded it was. Saying that no one else would be able to use it wasn't an exaggeration.

Before either he or Hank could comment further, the encrypted device actually buzzed with a message.

' _Your first mission is up. Tomorrow, 9am, same place. Don't be late_.' it said; but the message didn't materialize on Hank's.

"I guess that means I'm in business," Nick stated offhandedly.

Hank's interest melted away, reverting back into a less than pleased expression.

"Are you sure you want to go in alone?"

Nick wasn't immediately forthcoming with a response; truthfully, no, he wasn't sure he did. But, if that was what Hadrian's Wall required, he would suck it up-and just because Hank hadn't been called in, didn't mean that no one else had.

"It'll be fine," he assured his partner, touching the elder's hand. "I can handle myself; besides, you might not have been called, but Trubel or Monroe could have been. I might not be on my own."

The notion that at least someone else might be joining him seemed to assuage Hank's uncertainty, and he returned Nick's contact.

"All right." Though he still sounded rather reluctant to let Nick go when he checked the device in Nick's hand, and let out a sigh. "If you have to be there at nine, you should probably head out."

Nick glanced at the clock, too, and saw that Hank had a point. He'd been here a lot longer than he thought; getting to be with Hank like this had just been so easy that it passed the time a lot quicker. He almost didn't want to leave-but he knew he should.

"Yeah, I probably should," he conceded, extricating himself from Hank's embrace grudgingly and standing. 

Hank caught him just after he'd replaced his jacket over his shoulders, tugging him down to peck him on the lips.

"Be careful," he requested.

"I will," Nick promised in what he hoped was a comforting tone, leaning his forehead against Hank's briefly before withdrawing. "Goodnight, Hank."

"Night," Hank surrendered, releasing him so he could straighten up and make his departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i reckon the end scene of this chapter was a little pointless but i like it


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a little late but i had to totally revamp it to make more sense with the timing. also last scene sorta ripped from episode 5x07

Nick had already been concealing many secrets from Juliette lately, and now he had another to add to the list:he wasn't going to work that morning-he was going to an entirely different job.

And as he'd slightly hoped, he was going to have company. 

"You got called in, too?" the younger Grimm surmised by way of a greeting when they met at the top of the stairs and began heading down into the kitchen together.

"Looks like," Nick confirmed, making a beeline for the coffee maker and beginning to brew some for both of them.

Trubel opened the fridge to grab an apple, then switched on the TV, leaning over the back of the couch to check the news.

"You have any idea what we're going to be doing?"

Nick hesitated, his back to his houseguest as he retrieved a mug from the cupboard above him. He heard a commercial endorsing Andrew Dixon for Portland's new mayor-and that reminded him of another controlling position that had recently been vacated.

"Not sure; but I suspect it could be something to do with the Wesen Council being taken out yesterday."

Trubel stopped with her apple halfway to her mouth, visibly stunned by that statement.

"What? They were? How?"

"Black Claw," Nick answered dourly, swiveling around to face her after shutting the cupboard. He supposed he should have told her as soon as he'd come home, but she'd been in bed and he'd already had to contend with Juliette-he hadn't told her what had happened, but he'd had to tell her something and once he'd done that, his attention had turned to the upcoming mission, so it had slipped his mind. Until now. "Apparently, they got to one of the members and, after Monroe and Rosalee talked to them yesterday, they were all murdered, except for a man named Alexander, who was saved by one of HW's agents."

He could see Trubel working to process, lowering her apple onto the table. She hadn't any personal dealings with the council yet, but she knew what purpose they served and this was on top of everything that had already happened. It had to be a lot.

"So, you think it could be about retaliating or something?" she wondered slowly, sounding uncertain.

The coffee machine buzzed right as Nick was about to respond; he shrugged, pouring himself a cup before responding.

"Maybe. I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Trubel finished the fruit in her hand, and the two of them collected their things to leave. They left a note for Juliette, saying Trubel had gone out on a job search so she wouldn't wonder where the other Grimm was, then piled into Nick's car.

Assuming the procedures would be the same as the previous day, Nick once again parked a block away and he and Trubel walked the remaining distance to the headquarters.

This time, both Chavez and Meisner were in the computer room when the Grimms arrived, scrolling through images of an unfamiliar restaurant on the projection screen; they weren't just images, though. They were actually moving, so it was more like a live video feed.

Chavez was the first to acknowledge them, momentarily turning from the screen to face them with the tablet still in her hands.

"Good, you're here." She didn't bother with any small talk, although she did give a fleeting smile. "We wanted to ease you into this, but, unfortunately, circumstances have conspired against us."

"Is this about the Wesen Council being eliminated?" Trubel interrupted, apparently unable to suppress her curiosity-even if it meant eschewing social niceties.

HW's leader, however, seemed neither bothered by her rudeness nor surprised that she was aware of that fact.

"Yes. Their evisceration has forced to move up our timetable for you and your friends." She gestured toward the screen behind her, which was now showing the front of the restaurant, allowing them to glimpse the sign with the name on it: 'Prosecco's'. "One of the men involved in infiltrating the Council is going to be here tonight; Chione is going to capture him and we want you two to back her up."

Nick was of mixed opinion about this new development. He was ready to do whatever it took to fight Black Claw, but he was a little wary of what capturing someone might entail.

"What are we going to have to do?" Trubel asked for them both, crossing her arms over her chest.

Before explaining, Chavez tapped something on the tablet, and the video feel on the screen ended, replaced by a profile of an unfamiliar, harsh-looking man.

"This is Samuel Rankin. Real name Rolf Kleinager, and one of the founders of Black Claw. He is our target, and he'll be traveling with two Schackal bodyguards." She switched the image again to the aforementioned bodyguards. "Sig Ganz and Otto Gruenvaldt. All you have to do is distract them while Chione takes care of their boss."

That seemed easy enough-they weren't being outright ordered to kill the two men and it didn't sound like they were being accomplices to a murder, either. Therefore, Nick's conscience was clear as he agreed.

"When?" he queried.

"Six," Meisner answered, leaving the other agent he'd been conversing with and striding to the opposite end of the table as the screen returned to the interior of the restaurant. "There's a lot you'll need to be ready for before you go; Chione is scoping out the site and you'll need to know the layout and more about the targets to be ready."

Trubel seemed to be about to debate the direction, but Nick interrupted, seeing the opportunity to bring up the real concern behind the Council's decimation.

"What about the other fallout? The man your agent in the Hague saved from being killed like the rest of the Council said that he would be coordinating their remaining agents and sending some of them here to lend reinforcement."

Meisner and his boss shared a brief glance, both their expressions unreadable, before the woman addressed Nick's comment.

"That won't be for a long time coming. Our first priority after this incident is containment: we need to ensure that word does not get out that the Council no longer exists. We cannot afford to have that chaos in the midst of a war," she illustrated firmly, mouth set in a tight line. "As well, we will be using the sole survivor of the massacre to distribute their remaining agents as evenly as possible and then reassemble the council with impartial members of our ranks, without Black Claw's knowledge."

Suffice it to say, Nick was quite surprised-both by Chavez's candidness about their plans and by how logical they actually were. He hoped it would be enough to assuage Monroe and Rosalee's worry when he told them-he probably should have let them know so they could be here, but things had moved a bit too fast for him to have time.

Satisfied that they'd explained the matter sufficiently, Meisner resumed the previous line of discussion.

"That is another reason why we need to contain Rankin: if we can get a headstart on what destroying the Council was supposed to lead to, we can stop this from getting any worse. Which is why you'll need to take extra care on this mission."

When Trubel opened her mouth this time, Nick didn't stop her.

"I've dealt with a Schackal before," she declared, a little insulted at what she must have perceived as an underestimation of her ability.

To her obvious chagrin, the female federal agent merely shook her head.

"Not like these two." She switched the screen again to two other images and profiles of the aforementioned Schackals so Nick and Trubel could read what she meant.

As Nick scanned the stats of Rankin's bodyguard's, he reckoned Trubel had to concede the point. The fact that both of them were members of Black Claw had convinced him, but Trubel was obviously dismayed when she saw that that wasn't all there was to them. One of them was the child of a Stasi member-the German secret police-and designated a Black Claw enforcer, and the other was security for a lot of the organization's higher-ups with a stellar record.

She acted as if she were still unimpressed, though, her arms staying folded across her chest and youthful features blank.

"We can still take care of them, no problem," she affected a dismissive manner, bringing a rueful quirk to Nick's lips. Never let it be said that Trubel wasn't a good actress.

Chavez, in turn, also emitted a soft chuckle.

"Well, you'll have the chance to prove that; but may I suggest you study our information on the operation, anyways." It didn't come out as much of a suggestion, more of an order, and Nick was inclined to follow it. As confident as he was in his strength, he believed in taking every precaution.

After a brief hesitation, Trubel grudgingly-it appeared-followed suit, joining Nick closer to the screen and assimilating everything they had regarding their targets.  
Considering how obscure this group was meant to be, Hadrian's Wall had managed to accumulate quite a bit. Each of the profiles listed what type of Wesen the three men were, what their position was within Black Claw, how long they'd been members and there was even some data about their moves and temperament.

Nick's eyebrows lifted as he came to the end of the dossiers, impressed and also a tad intimidated. Not that taking on any kind of Wesen was ever really easy, but this no longer seemed like it was going to be even the slightest bit simple.

Meisner must have seen that they'd finished and sensed what they were thinking because he headed off Nick's forthcoming question.

"We know this won't be like a police procedure, so we have some tools that we believe will make it simpler," the German man gestured as he rounded their position and began making his way out of the ops centre.

Trubel seemed to like the sound of that, and she hastened to go with him, Nick not that far behind.

He took them down a corridor they hadn't traversed yet, one that twisted and came to a halt outside a slightly smaller chamber blocked by a small steel door. There was no one waiting to open this door: Meisner turned the handle and held it ajar to admit them first.

In contrast to the other room, there were steel wires criscrossing the walls in this one, with a vast selection of weapons attached to them, varying from innocuous-seeming objects that Nick couldn't identify, to military-grade assault guns. Nick thought he even saw a rocket launcher.

There was also a table, stretching the length of the room and, instead of computers, it was laden with a bunch of technical-looking gadgets from end to end, none of which Nick could guess the function of.

"What is all this?"he wondered, equal parts awed and confused by the sight before him.

Meisner shut the door before striding toward the rack of guns and explaining.

"This is our armoury, where we keep all our weapons. Some of them are our own inventions, and the rest are army castoffs the government has covertly sent us once the threat of Black claw became more prominent." He paused, shifting some of the gadgetry on the table to withdraw a specific one, which, to Nick's eye, appeared strangely similar to a tape recorder. "This was designed specifically for Schackals; when it is switched on, it emits a subsonic pulse only they can hear, which interferes with their brainwaves to throw off their concentration."

He tossed the object to Nick, who caught it one-handed then began turning it over to examine it. It was the size of an old-fashioned tape recorder, but there was no cartridge for a tape; as well, there was only a single round button in the center of the longer side-the on and off switch, Nick presumed. It seemed to be made of a combination of plastic and metal that was oddly rough along the sides. 

To summarize, it was like nothing Nick had ever seen before, but he pocketed it, anyways. If Meisner thought it would help, he believed him.

Excitement flared in Trubel's face as Meisner handed her an identical device, and she, too, scrutinized it carefully, almost like a kid who'd just gotten a new toy.

"Cool," she commented a beat later, tucking the object into her coat. "Do we need anything else?"

Meisner shook his head.

"We hope not. As Chavez stated, the two of you are meant to be purely backup: Chione will be doing the heavy lifting, and we have planned for every obstacle. There could be unforeseen difficulties, of course, but that is why we wanted Grimms on this mission."

Nick wasn't entirely comforted by that, but Trubel seemed fine-and he understood why. Grimms, or at least, they had found themselves pretty skilled at adapting to any situation.And considering this wasn't a murder case, that they were merely meant to be distractions, it shouldn't require too much quick thinking.

Just as that thought was crossing his mind, they were interrupted by the door opening again, and all three of them looked to see the aforementioned woman entering, a tablet clutched in her hands.

"There's been a new development," she informed them before anyone could ask why she was here. "We just got confirmation on who Rankin is meeting tonight, and it is another person of interest to us-someone who we cannot permit Black Claw to recruit."

"Who?" Nick piped up, brows arching again at that twist.

Chione turned the tablet toward him, revealing another dossier-though this one was, oddly, void of a picture.

"We haven't been able to pinpoint a face, but she is a rising figure in Wesen politics and has been gaining influence rapidly over the last two years. We know she comes from Albuquerque, New Mexico and has past affiliations with human law enforcement; she hasn't declared allegiance one way or the other yet, and if Black Claw manages to turn her, it will be a major coup."

"So, how are we handling her?" the female Grimm asked, frowning.

Chione cast a glance at Meisner, answering once he'd ticked his head in the barest trace of a nod.

"Plans will have to be rearranged to accommodate her presence," she stated firmly. "We're going to need to get to her before Rankin can persuade her to join their cause and, with luck, we'll be able to turn her to ours instead." She swiped her fingers over the tablet's screen, seeming to type something, then adding, "She will have bodyguards of her own, so you may have to contend with them as well; but maybe not if we can make it clear from the start that we aren't a threat to her."

Nick's jaw worked slowly as he digested Chione's solution. He didn't like there being a new unknown element, but since this woman apparently wasn't a Black Claw member-yet-he reasoned he might not have to do anything to her. He assumed convincing her to fight for HW instead of Black Claw wouldn't involve violence-or at least, he hoped.

"We can do that," he accepted, feigning a calm he didn't entirely feel. 

Chione's glimmering gaze lingered on him, giving the impression that she could see past his facade, yet she said nothing about it. She merely withdrew a second tablet from inside her cloak, then brought up the same files on both of them and held them out to the Grimms, saying, "Good. Then the last thing you need is to learn the layout of where this is all going down. Rankin has a table reserved here," She indicated an area on the blueprints that was on the far left of the restaurant's dining room. "I've compelled the manager to leave a table with a direct sight line free for us; we will arrive shortly after them and before Rankin has a chance to make his pitch too enticing, you two will engage the bodyguards while I incapacitate Rankin and get to his guest. Barring any interference, this should go off without a hitch."

Nick and Trubel took the tablets from her, following her synopsis and where she pointed on the map attentively. It sounded as though she'd thought this through quite well, even factoring in the guest's-evidently unexpected-identity; Nick couldn't find any flaws to address.

"We're ready," Trubel spoke up fiercely, jaw set as she went about memorizing the blueprints and images on the device, ensuring she knew the restaurant inside out as well as what everyone's position inside it was going to be.

Nick did the same, aware of Meisner departing and Chione presumably prepping herself around him. The woman was actually rather quiet, and without watching her, Nick couldn't tell what exactly she was doing. By the time he was certain he had the layout committed to memory, none of the weapons on the wall nor on the table had moved, making Nick interested as to how she was going to take on Rankin.

He didn't get the chance to ask because as soon as he and Trubel lifted their gazes, Chione began giving instructions.

"It's time for us to get going. The restaurant is a fair distance away, and we will need to finalize arrangements." She collected the tablets from her companions, then tilted her chin pointedly. "You will need to leave your personal cellphones here. We cannot ensure their security from Black Claw and we cannot have them cottoning on to our operation."

Both Grimms got her reasoning, and they handed over their phones without a fuss, watching as Chione locked them away in a drawer on the other side of the table.

"You can return for them once this is over; although, even then, please don't discuss this when communicating on them, nor with anyone not involved."

Once Trubel and Nick had given their consent, she beckoned, and they fell in behind her as she shuffled back to the headquarters' entrance. When they were outside, she accompanied them to Nick's car, pressing her palm flat atop the hood.

"I'm putting the coordinates into your vehicle; it will know where to go. All you have to do is maintain its equilibrium," she explained her action, evoking a baffled stare from the other woman. She, like Nick, couldn't grasp how she was doing that by simply touching his car.

"We'll meet you there, then," Nick didn't comment on it, however, getting into the driver's seat while Trubel got in beside him.

If he'd thought that was odd, even odder was that the other woman didn't appear to possess a vehicle, causing Nick to question how she would travel to their destination. She had to have some mode of transportation, otherwise why hadn't she simply ridden with them? It broached a thought Nick had never considered: could she teleport? 

Truth be told, he wouldn't be that astounded-he couldn't be anymore astounded than he was by how she'd gotten his car to automatically start for the location of their mission without his direction.

Even so, the journey was still rather lengthy, taking them until the sun had nearly set and the clock on his dashboard was showing it was about five pm.

Prosecco's had only street parking across from it, so Nick halted the car on the kerb to the right, trying for the least conspicuous spot he could find. As he turned the engine off, he caught Trubel rubbing her hands on her knees.

"You okay?" he asked her gently, unbuckling his seatbelt and tucking his keys into his jacket.

The younger Grimm wasn't immediately forthcoming with a response, inhaling deeply as if to compose herself, then giving a measured nod.

"All good."

Nick touched her shoulder briefly before they climbed out of the car and began trudging across the road to the restaurant.

It had to be a good place because it was already teeming with guests, despite the fact that they had only just opened. There were a few empty tables still, but nearly all of them had placards on them saying they were reserved.

Chione was lurking by the hosts' station, somehow completely unnoticed in her cloak and high heeled boots. She had her head bowed so her hood veiled her eyes from view, but she lifted it upon Nick and Trubel's approach.

"They should be here soon," she stated, not bothering with pleasantries. She flicked her fingers at one of the reserved tables, this one clearly meant for a party of two. "That's their table, and their bodyguards will be positioned against the wall behind the booth."

Right, that had been listed as their general positions in prior incidents on the dossiers they'd studied. Evidently, that was standard protocol for whenever Rankin attended a public meal, Nick and Trubel didn't question how HW knew that.

"We've got what we need to take care of them," Nick assured her, curling his fingers around the invention in his pocket. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't nervous, but he'd never let nerves get in the way of his police work and he wasn't about to allow them to hinder this, either. This was just as important as anything he'd done as a detective-if not more so.

There was nothing else to do but wait until their targets arrived. As they waited, Nick found it curious that no one looked their way, especially given how distinctive Chione and Trubel were. He considered perhaps that was another of Chione's mysterious powers-being able to divert people's attention from her. There was clearly no end to what the experiments performed on her had enabled her to do.

Their targets were right on time; 6 o clock on the dot, the doors swung inward and Nick immediately recognized Rankin from the photo Hadrian's Wall possessed. He was even gruffer in person, resembling closely the beast he could morph into with the harsh lines written into his cheeks and forehead beneath his auburn fringed; he was dressed in a tailored gray suit, a long dark coat and polished shoes, marking himself out as someone who had money and wanted to flaunt it.

His bodyguards didn't appear any friendlier, as was typical of Schackals. They had the same flinty, aggressive expressions that denoted them as another of the bad Wesen.

The three men strode right in without so much as a greeting to the host. heading to their table and seating themselves so the man at the front had to scramble to bring them menus.

True to Chione's assumption, the bodyguards took up stations behind the booth, hands clasped in front of them in soldiers' stances. Nick could make out the bulges of their concealed weapons under their jackets.

Rankin's guest entered shortly following him, wrapped in a blue sheath dress and trenchcoat, her silver heels clicking on the marble floor. Nick was stunned to find that he recognized her, too: her name was Valentina Espanosa and when they'd met, she'd been a disgraced detective from New Mexico, fired after becoming obsessed with a case involving kidnapped children that had carried her to Portland. His mind whirled as he wondered how she'd gone from that to getting involved in Wesen politics, and he observed the proceedings with a renewed intrigue.

Valentina, in contrast to the man she was meeting, did display some manners, greeting the host and waiting for him to take her to Rankin's table, where she thanked him for pulling out her chair for her. Also, unlike Rankin and opposite to Chione's information, she wasn't traveling with any security, piquing Nick's engrossment further.

Rankin didn't waste time; they quickly ordered drinks to begin, and then he seemed to dive right into his recruitment pitch. 

That was Chione's cue to claim their spot, pushing herself fluidly off the wall and beelining for the table she'd had saved for them with Nick and Trubel right on her tail. It took them past Valentina and Rankin, permitting Nick to catch a snatch of their conversation, revealing that he'd been incorrect: the Black Claw founder was actually in the midst of complimenting Valentina on her recent political endeavours in a tone that, in Nick's opinion, suggested he didn't mean a single syllable.

His lip curled slightly in distaste as he took his chair across from Chione, leaving Trubel to sit in between them. The host dropped their menus onto the table in front of each of them and informed them that their server would be with them briefly.

Chione shed her cloak after he left, revealing a silky, silvery sleeveless dress that Nick hadn't expected; yes, she was wearing it over a t-shirt and jeans but, from what he'd seen of her so far, he hadn't thought she'd own a dress. He'd thought the same of Trubel, who, under her jacket, was clad in a pair of black jeans, a form-fitting blue turtleneck and a hoodie that was zipped halfway. Not the most appropriate attire for the setting, but it didn't seem to rankle anyone.

Nick trained his senses on the other party, listening for the moment when they would need to move; Rankin hadn't finished buttering his guest up, though they'd already progressed to ordering meals.

"You are a fantastic asset to the Wesen world. I feel very honoured that you agreed to dine with me tonight," Nick heard him continue in that serpentine accent of his. Chione looked like she was just barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes-he didn't have to ask if she could hear, too.

From his vantage point, Nick perceived that Valentina looked to be fighting to suppress the same urge as she bit into her food.

"I only took this meeting because one of my advisors pushed for it; but I do not appreciate stalling and I would like to know why I am here, Mr. Rankin. I don't imagine it was just so you could show me Portland's fine dining scene," the ex-detective cut to the chase, inspecting her companion shrewdly.

Nick couldn't see Rankin's face, but judging from the lack of shift in his voice when he responded, he was undeterred.

"You are correct. I wanted to show you the kind of lifestyle you could lead if you joined my company." Rankin sipped at his drink, lifting the expensive beverage as if it illustrated his point. "I know how you've been living since you were dismissed from your previous career, and I'd wager it's been quite a while since you've been treated this well."

Nick tilted his head to the side, a thoughtful frown encroaching on his forehead. So, Valentina hadn't gotten her job back after she'd assisted Hank and Nick in solving the kidnapping case?He'd thought she would, considering she'd been instrumental in figuring out where the perpetrator had taken the children and retrieving them and they'd allowed some of the credit to go to her former employers for solving the case. That should have earned her at least some goodwill; why hadn't she at least gotten an entry level position with them again, instead of whatever had caught Black Claw's attention?

Valentina continued eating, swallowing delicately to avoid confirming or denying Rankin's supposition of her lifestyle. However, that seemed to be confirmation enough for her companion.

"We can change that, Ms. Espanosa. We can give you the reward you deserve for the great work you've been doing for our kind, and we won't dare treat you in as unsightly a manner as the Kehrseite do. You can be free to be yourself with us; that is, after all, our manifesto," he elaborated compellingly. 

That statement brought a furrow to Chione's brows. She must have actually been worried that Rankin was getting somewhere-but, based on his previous impression of her, Nick wanted to believe that Valentina was smarter than that, that she wouldn't be lured into this kind of radical, violent group by the promise of luxury, that she wouldn't ignore the cost of that freedom. He wanted to believe that her involvement in law enforcement meant she was more compassionate toward the humans than Black Claw.

Rankin allowed her until she'd dissolved the last of her meal to deliberate over his offer, and when she still hadn't answered, it gave Nick hope that he was right about her. In contradiction, it seemed to irritate Rankin slightly-though he masterfully concealed it, not giving up.

"Shall I show you what other benefits there would be to accepting my proposal?" he suggested, rising from his chair and gesturing for her to join him.

Before Valentina could respond, Chione chose to act: she stood as well, replacing her cloak over her shoulders and slipping the hood fluidly back on. Nick knew that was the signal, and he and the younger rose, activating the devices in their pockets.

The effect was instantaneous, although subtle: the two Schackals at Rankin's rear abruptly became unfocused, eyes glazing over faintly like they'd been drinking.

Meanwhile, Chione was padding toward Rankin with inhuman liquidity as he lead Valentina toward the exit. In a motion invisible to all but Nick's enhanced eye, she curled her hand into a fist by her waist.

No matter how fuzzy the security team's brains had gone, they couldn't miss their boss abruptly clutching at his head, and then crumpling to the floor with a strangled yell as if he'd been clobbered. Both bodyguards whirled around to pinpoint who or what was to blame-since nothing had visible touched him-human visages bubbling out, presumably Woge-ing to increase their powers of perception.

Right as they came face-to-face with Nick and Trubel; there was a short delay, no doubt due to the devices messing with their brains, before they recognized the two as Grimms. And even once they had and their mouths had contorted into snarls, their movements were unusually sluggish and jerky, like they weren't fully in control of their bodies-that was a result Meisner hadn't mentioned, and it simplified subduing them.

Nick kicked at Ganz, stepping into him and nailing him in the shin. The Schackl recoiled, stumbling, and Nick didn't wait for him to recover before jamming an elbow into his nose and delivering a second kick into his stomach. 

He was down for the count with that, giving Nick the time to catch Trubel slamming Gruenvaldt into a nearby table, knocking him unconscious, and Chione pressing two of her fingers to the side of Rankin's neck under the pretext of checking if he was okay.

The other guests were mostly screaming and shouting, clearly disturbed by the unexpected fight interrupting their dinner. The waiters were-understandably-panicking, one of them shakily lifting a phone to her ear, surely calling 911.

Nick supposed it would be helpful to let everyone know the police were already there.

He was interrupted by Valentina seeing him and crying out at his entrance.

"Detective Burkhardt," she exclaimed, taken aback-though not by much. Nick guessed she might have expected him to be involved in this somehow, given that he was a Grimm.  
He couldn't say the same about her.

"Ms. Espanosa," he returned the greeting, his a little more shocked. "It's been a long time."

The corners of Valentina's mouth quirked in a vague smile.

"Yes, it had. I didn't think we'd meet again, or at least not like this." She jerked her chin at the comatose Rankin. "I imagine you're here for him. Do you know who he is? Who he works for?"

"Yes," Nick admitted, seeing no reason to lie; but also thinking they shouldn't be having this discussion in the middle of a crowded restaurant. "But that's a subject for a more private location. I have to handle the crowd, but would you come back with me and my friends?"

At his request, Valentina glanced at both Trubel and Chione, who'd come to his side while they were speaking and, after a pause, must have deemed them trustworthy because she assented.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some plot points stolen from 5x09 in here; warning for torture although i didn't get that graphic with it. was gonna do the whole thing with eve like taking away that guy's mouth and stuff but decided it didn't work for the context. don't think i'm really happy with how that end scene was put in i wanted to have more buildup for it but couldn't think of it. it'll matter later tho so  
> obviously disclaimer since i don't own grimm. if i did griffhardt would be a legit couple cuz they so are

Everything happened pretty rapidly after that. Two men who hadn't been there a second ago carted Rankin's unconscious form out of the dining room; they were in police uniforms, but they weren't members of any precinct Nick knew and there had been no sirens preceding their entrance, so the Grimm decided they were actually other HW agents. Which clearly meant they weren't taking Rankin to a police station.

In the meantime, Nick handled the actual police that showed up a few minutes afterward, giving them the minimum of information and ensuring they evacuated the bystanders to safety. Valentina and Trubel went with the crowd, and Chione vanished with the men who had taken Rankin so he didn't have to explain who they were.

Surprisingly, it all went off without a hitch and he was able to reconvene with the HW group back at their headquarters pretty rapidly. The police had apprehended the bodyguards, getting them out of the way and Rankin was now unconscious in the cell Nick found the women all waiting outside of.

Until he woke up, Nick decided he wanted to hear the story of how Valentina had gotten involved with this.

"So, what happened since the last time I saw you?"the Grimm asked, taking care not to sound as though he was accusing her of anything. Because he wasn't-he just wanted to understand.

Valentina pressed her lips together briefly, as if weighing her words.

"I was offered my job with Albuquerque police department back after the case we worked together, and I took it," she began to rehash, tone carefully measured. "But then, about a year ago, I started encountering cases that I knew were Wesen, cases more brutal than any Wesen murders I'd previously dealt with and that all seemed to be connected to destabilizing the economy in New Mexico, putting more radical and aggressive leaders in power and unseating the Kehrseite. They infected my agency and I knew I couldn't stop them within the confines of the law, so I quit and began investigating on my own. that was how I found out about Black Claw, and I expect how they found out about me."

"And their cause held no allure for you?"Nick quipped, recalling that she was Wesen herself-a Balam, to be specific. He didn't know too much about them, but he'd thought she'd be the more aggressive type, especially after how her agency had treated her in the past.

But Valentina shook her head.

"Do you remember what I said during that case, that my sister's child was one of the children taken by the Weeping Lady? Well, she was married to a Kehrseite-he knew what she was and he accepted her for who she was. If Black Claw is allowed to take over, that sort of relationship would become a thing of the past; humans wouldn't be treated as equals, they wouldn't be permitted to form relationships with us. The entire status quo would be upset, and the world would become an even colder, bloodier place than it already is." She shared a meaningful glance with Nick. "I think you and I both are in the position where we would do anything to prevent that reality."

Nick was impressed; she was right, of course. They were both law enforcement and had presumably gotten into it to protect people, no matter who they were-and that hadn't changed for Nick once he'd discovered he was a Grimm. It had just meant he had more people to protect. It sounded like that was Valentina's mindset, too.

"So, why did you agree to meet with them if you had no intention of joining?" Trubel interjected, eyeing the older woman with a frown. Valentina was a stranger to her; she had no reason to believe anything she was saying, so she was right to want an explanation.

And the former detective gave her one.  
"I wanted to see what they would do, if their offer of making me a member was sincere or if they were merely trying to lure me into a trap," she stated honestly, meeting Trubel's inquisitive stare as if she respected her suspicion. "I've been making trouble for them for months now; I thought the latter was more likely."

Trubel's gaze shifted to Nick, and Nick knew she was looking to see if he bought that. Maybe it was just because of how they'd met, how she'd been so adamant about saving those children-none of whom had been Wesen-but he did. And she didn't seem like she was lying: she was perfectly composed, not tense or displaying any of the tension a dishonest person typically would be, especially a Wesen lying to two Grimms.

"I'd say it was probably more of an 'either/or' situation," Chione asserted, turning their attention to her for the first time. She was angled against the wall by the door of the cell, hands in the pockets of her cloak as she addressed her companions. "I imagine their plan to was recruit you if they could, but eliminate you if you declined. Now that we have Rankin, however, and they don't have you, they're probably going to be moving ahead with that plan B. Unless we protect you."

Despite the seriousness of Chione's statement, Valentina didn't appear unduly frightened.

"You don't have to try and coerce me into choosing your side. Now that I am aware of your existence, I intend to work for you-as long as you can promise me an active role in ending Black Claw's reign of terror."

Chione smiled, a simultaneously welcome and unsettling thing with the accompanying flash in her unearthly eyes.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that," she assured the elder woman positively. "Considering who you are, I think we'll be offering you a position right on the front lines of our defense. You'll get to be first at hand to take down their tyranny."

Valentina seemed to like that idea for she grinned as well.

"Then, I'm at your disposal," she acquiesced without a trace of doubt or hesitation.

That evoked a smile from Nick, too. Chione had said if they could get Valentina to come to their side instead of Black Claw's, it would strike a major blow against them-and since they'd captured one of their founders as well, it looked like they'd gotten a twofer.

"Perfect," Chione tilted her head at Valentina; then, she checked her watch and switched topics. "Our captive should be rising soon. Would you like to sit in on his interrogation?"

Nick's smile dropped as quickly as it had come. Before giving his response, he had to know: "Are you planning to torture him?"

Chione didn't bother beating around the bush. "If he doesn't cooperate."

The elder Grimm took a deep breath. He wasn't entirely comfortable being a party to torture, but he did want to hear what Rankin had to say; he really wanted to know how Black Claw had infiltrated the Council and if they'd planted agents in any relevant organizations. Like, say, the Portland Police. And he doubted Rankin would just give that information up without any coercion.

In contrast, Trubel's reply was almost instantaneous, and vehement. "I want to see. I want to know what these guys are planning."

Nick bit the inside of his cheek, then finally he made a decision.

"Yes. I want to be there, too."

"All right," Chione accepted, removing her hood. "Meisner's keeping an eye on him; once he's awake, I'll have him perform your orientation, Ms. Espanosa. In the meantime, you two can go retrieve your cellphones from the armoury,if you want."

That was said to Nick and Trubel, who couldn't see the harm in the suggestion and detoured to the chamber they'd visited earlier, withdrawing their personal phones from the drawer Chione had stored them in.

By the time they returned, Meisner had opened the door to admit Chione into the cell

"He's awake," Meisner reported as the Grimms approached by way of a greeting, stepping aside so they could enter as well. leaving Valentina back in the corridor.

He shut the door once they were inside, and then crouched in front of Rankin, who was tied to a chair in the center of the small, metal room, eyes gradually opening to his new surroundings.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions," Meisner spoke, giving him no time to become accustomed to being a prisoner, his thick accent cold and emotionless as was his bearded face as he stared at the other man. "If you don't cooperate, someone else is going to ask you questions. You cooperate?"

Even given his compromising position, Rankin simply curled his upper lip, and all that came out of his mouth was a harsh, unimpressed " _Occultatum Libera_."

The Hadrian's Wall agents behind Meisner all shared a glance; clearly, Chione, like Nick, had heard that many times before and had been expecting it. And Trubel, though being unfamiliar with the phrase, could tell what it meant in this context.

"I don't think he's going to cooperate," she surmised, expression darkening.

Meisner had obviously come to the same conclusion because he heaved a falsely resigned sigh and pushed himself back to his full height as if in surrender.

"He's all yours, Chione. I guess I'll go take care of our new recruit." He exited back into the hall, and Chione took his place, her olive-skinned features smoothing out into an impenetrable mask.

"You don't want to talk to us?"she said innocuously, cocking her head to the side like a disappointed child. "Well, that's a shame. It'd be much easier if you gave us what we wanted yourself-but if you'd rather not, I'll just have to take it from you."

At first, Rankin didn't seem to care much one way or the other; he merely stared at her without blinking, as she began to lope nearer to him, as if daring her to try and make him tell her something. Nick and Trubel also stared at her, wondering what sort of torture she was going to inflict on him, the elder bracing himself for it.

She removed the glove from her right hand in a deceptively casual, innocent manner. Then, Nick saw the distortion at her fingertips as they suddenly shot out and dug into his forehead. Instead of merely scratching him, her nails pierced right through his flesh, wringing an involuntary, strangled cry from his mouth.

Both Nick and Trubel stepped back, the female Grimm looking equally revolted and astonished. They couldn't tell exactly what she was doing, but it did not look pleasant-or normal.

"Please, what-?!" Rankin yelled out, evidently not understanding what she was doing, but not liking it, judging from the tears that were springing to his eyes. "Okay, I'll talk!"  
That didn't take long.

Chione's earlier smile returned, this time with satisfaction. she withdrew her fingers slowly, though, and not all the way.

"Well, now I'll have no guarantee you're telling me the truth, so I'm going to have to stay connected," she stated cryptically, lowering herself so she was eye to eye with Rankin before asking her first question. "Tell me:how did you infiltrate the Wesen council?"

Rankin didn't answer immediately, wincing and visibly struggling to thinking around whatever she was doing.

"We didn't,"he said in a ragged tone, features screwed up in unconcealed pain. "One of their members...has been with us since we first formed."

"Did you plan to eliminate them all along?"Chione appeared to push her fingers in deeper, and the others heard Rankin give a choked whimper.

"Yes!"The word burst out of him heavily and unnecessarily loudly, the speaker doubling over in his chair-as much as he could given his bound state. "From the moment...they learned of our existence...and didn't align with us...they had to go. All Wesen...must join."

"Now that they're gone, what are you planning to do?" Nick posed a question of his own, gaze darting to Chione to see if she would censure him. She didn't; she merely turned Rankin's head, likely to compel him to answer Nick.

The lines of agony along the other man's brow deepened, but now they were joined by recognition and what could only be described as hatred as he looked into the detective's face.

"You...you're Burkhardt...the Grimm who's been...gumming up the works," he observed, practically spitting venom. "You...have a history with the Council. You...were beginning to...convince them to reform-you...contributed to this." He cut off, letting out another cry as Chione did something that caused sparks to race across his hairline.

"Answer his question," she insisted coldly, shaking him.

He hissed, but complied.

"We're going to take their place! Install our own laws in place of theirs, laws that will five our kind free reign and stop coddling the disgusting humans and teach them to fear us. We're going to take control, and use their sources to find the other Grimms like you, and destroy them like we're going to destroy you."

Nick tried not to show his reaction to that threat. It definitely wasn't the first time a Wesen had threatened him; but it was the first time that he was actually scared of what they might do to carry out that threat. Xavier had said they'd take down everyone around him-his friends, his family-and this guy was confirming it.

This was an opportunity, however. Rankin was one of their founders, and if he knew that they were planning to destroy him, maybe he could get him to say exactly how they intended to do that so he could get ahead of it.

Chione seemed to be thinking the same thing, and she asked the question for him.

"How are you going to destroy the Grimm?"

Rankin's fervor for their plans momentarily appeared to cut through his pain; his tone became triumphant, vicious as he elucidated.

"We're going to crush everything you love: the people you care about, your career. Your city. We already have a plan to take over Portland, and it was put into motion with the mayoral election that is occurring right now. And the Captain of your police force, Sean Renard, he's going to help it go our way."

Nick felt his dread increase. He wanted to say that there was no way the Captain would go along with them, but the truth was he had no idea. Sean Renard may have been a police officer, but he was also a Zauberbiest and they were not known for their nobility from what Monroe and Rosalee had told him. If they found the right button, made the right offer, Black Claw could easily get Renard to work with them. 

That told Nick he had made the right decision in not sharing everything about Hadrian's Wall with him. Which reminded him why he had chosen not to in the first place.

"You saw this coming somehow, didn't you? That's why you didn't want us to bring the captain here?" he looked at Chione shrewdly, lifting a single eyebrow.

It was Chione's turn to be not immediately forthcoming with a response, her focus lasering in on her captive's eyes while hers began to glow. Another scream tore out of Rankin's throat when that glow illuminated face as if it burned; Nick didn't see what happened next except for Rankin jerking once in his bonds, and then going limp again.

"There. Now I know everything he knows." She withdrew her fingers from his forehead with a grimace, and put her glove back on before turning to Nick. "And to answer your question, yes. I did have an inkling that your boss would be scouted by the other side of this war, and I didn't want him to have anything of value to give them if and when he agreed to their terms. But also, I know a lot about Sean Renard and what I know, I don't like."

Nick shifted a little as Chione explained. He had told Renard a little about Hadrian's Wall, but he didn't think it could be anything of value; he hadn't even mentioned their name. That said, he did think he should warn Renard that Black Claw would be approaching him, and he didn't know how he could do that without illuminating how he knew.

"He might be less likely to go over to them if I tell him what Rankin said," he pointed out on the off-chance that Chione would see the logic and give him permission.

The cloaked woman continued to grimace, as if she really wasn't keen on that course of action. But she did seem to understand where Nick was coming from, and reneged.

"Very well. Tell him what you must to prevent Rankin's words from coming true; but don't reveal our location or the identity of our branch's leader. That is a closely guarded secret, and I will not have someone who is not a loyal agent be privy to it."

Nick exhaled quietly. He could do that.

"I won't," he vowed. He was about to inquire as to what would be done with Rankin now they were finished with him, but Chione interrupted with a revelation that sent his world spinning on its axis.

"One other thing, detective. I didn't question Rankin about it aloud, but I read it in his thoughts before he passed out: Black Claw knows your mother is a Grimm, and that she didn't really die when you were twelve."

Nick didn't know why he was surprised. If Black Claw was aware of him, they could easily have found out his mother wasn't really dead. Then again, the Royals hadn't known that and they'd probably been around a lot longer than Black Claw had(and Nick didn't even know where the Royals were in this conflict, but he assumed they would stand with Black Claw) so maybe that was what threw him. And though he knew his mom could more than take care of herself, he still didn't like the thought of her out there, facing these Wesen alone.

To his shock, this didn't look like it was news to the woman who'd told him. In fact, she looked more like it was something she'd been waiting for. And, like she knew that, she answered his unspoken demand.

"Meisner told me about the woman who helped him get that Hexenbiest's child out of Vienna, and we tracked her journey here to you, allowing us to put two and two together. And if we could do that, so could our enemies. Now we know Kelly Burkhardt is quite accomplished at staying off the radar, but Black Claw has agents everywhere, and they're going to stop at nothing to find her and use her to get to you. I know you don't want that, and neither do we: we think it would be beneficial for everyone if she was here in Portland with our protection and our resources."

It was a very compelling offer, but Nick had no idea if his mother would accept it. Especially given her current circumstances.

"What about the child that's with her?" he wondered, assuming that, if they knew his mom had been protecting Diana, they had to know Diana was with her.

Again, his assumption was correct: Chione didn't even blink at the mention of Adalind's daughter.

"She'll be well taken care of. We have guardians who will ensure she has as normal a childhood as possible, far away from all of this, and if your mother wants, she can vet them herself."

That could work, Nick thought. And he definitely would prefer it if his mother was here, not just for her safety, but because he did miss her. If nothing else, this would be a chance to see more of her.

"I can email her," he submitted at length, shrugging. "I have no idea if she'll actually answer, or if she'll be cool with those terms, but I can try. I'll have to do it through my computer at home, though."

"No, you won't," Chione corrected, beckoning for him to follow her back out of the cell. "We can access your home computer here and get into your email account, then you can send the message. It'll be more secure than actually using that computer, anyways."

Nick couldn't argue with that; after all, he wasn't the only one who had access to his home computer and, as long as it was coming from his email address, his mom would presumably know it was really him. 

Chione took them into the operation centre again, bending in front of one of the computers on the oddly-shaped table and beginning to type on the keyboard.

"There," she declared a beat later, retreating from the computer and gesturing for Nick to come over. "It's ready for you."

Nick took her position before the screen and saw that she had indeed hacked into his home computer and his email account. Yet, even with the knowledge of the increased security, he still hesitated at what to write. He wasn't sure his word would be enough to persuade his mom to surrender Diana; she hadn't trusted the Resistance enough to give the child to them, and they'd been the ones to hire her to retrieve the kid to begin with, so he doubted she would trust Hadrian's Wall when she'd never met any of them.

Still, he told himself reasonably, there was no harm in trying. Although, before he launched into the reason for his message, he would first have to state the reason why he wasn't communicating through Juliette.

It was challenging, composing the message when he couldn't be totally explicit about what was going on in case it got intercepted or his mom was in an unsecure location when she received it, but still having to explain as much as he could. He had to be careful about the words he used, and he had to do so while being clear that it was really him and that he wasn't sending the email under duress. 

When he completed the task at last, he reclined on his heels, tensing more rather than less. Not for the first time, he wished Hank had been here with him; he would have been able to reassure Nick he was doing the right thing, and just his presence would have been a huge support. Trubel was great, but she didn't have the same insight into Nick's personal life that Hank had, and their dynamic was more her leaning on him rather than the other way around.

Chione, it transpired, didn't have to be close to Nick to perceive his stress, and she laid a tentative, conciliatory hand on his elbow.

"You won't regret this, Nick. I know you're probably not happy we didn't warn you about the threat on Kelly before now, but we didn't think you would be willing to get her to join us if you weren't already committed, too, and we needed to be certain you would. We need her help, and it's likely that she needs ours. We will do everything we can to keep her, and all of your loved ones, from being harmed," she assured him with no trace of deception, and Nick trusted her. Lying to him about that served no purpose.

He gave another sigh.

"Thank you, but I can't guarantee she'll want to go along with this-," he started, but Chavez-who Nick hadn't noticed coming into the room as well-waved it away.

"It doesn't matter. That you made the request is enough; if she acquiesces, we will merely consider that a bonus." She shot him her version of a smile. "You and Ms. Rubel are free to go for now; but do inform us if and when your mother replies."

Nick cut his gaze toward Trubel, who had remained oddly silent during that whole thing. She'd clearly been listening, however, and at Chavez's dismissal, lifted her shoulders. Neither of them could think of a reason to linger, so they didn't.

"Okay. I'll call you when I get a response," he complied, hands retreating into his jacket as he ambled away from the computer terminal and the agent at the gate opened the door so they could leave.

* * *

The Grimms left the headquarters in Nick's car; as they were driving back to Nick's, the elder could see that Trubel was chewing on her lower lip like she had something on her mind. Assuming it was about their mission today, he prodded her lightly. "You know, if you want to talk about today..."

Trubel didn't instantly voice what she was thinking, bottom lip still caught between her teeth; that was fine. Nick could wait.

"Why don't you really want us to tell Juliette about Hadrian's Wall?" she at last questioned, completely throwing Nick. "I thought it was just about protecting her at first, but the deeper we get involved with them, the more I think she would be safer if we were honest."

That...was not at all what Nick had been expecting her to ask, and he didn't have a suitable answer ready, or at least one that wouldn't expose the real truth without being a total lie.

Apparently, though, it didn't matter-because Trubel had already figured it out.

"Is it because you don't want her to know that you and Hank are together now?"

For the second time in almost as many hours, Nick froze. How had she known? He and Hank been taking great pains to act as though they were still just friends; he'd thought they were being subtle. Evidently, they hadn't been subtle enough.

They came to a stop light and, as Nick halted it to wait for it to change back, he pondered how to handle this. Trubel didn't look upset or accusatory, so she probably wasn't offended by their relationship. And Juliette hadn't kicked him out, so she hadn't told her. Maybe she just hadn't had time to, or maybe she'd been waiting to hear what Nick had to say about it.

He swallowed, steeling himself to relax before speaking.

"How long have you known?"

He saw Trubel lift her shoulders in another shrug.

"Well, you guys have been acting different around each other since we got back from Philadelphia-and I mean, you guys were already sleeping in the same bed of a two-bed hotel room when I showed up, so that was kind of a giveaway."

In spite of her casual manner, Nick couldn't help feeling like a child caught in wrongdoing and his grip tightened on the steering column.

There was no way Trubel could miss his anxiety and, again to his surprise, she raised her palms in a placating gesture.

"Hey, it's okay, Nick. If you two really care about each other that way, and you're not ready to go public yet, I'm cool keeping your secret, even from Juliette. Just in the future, don't keep me in the dark, okay? You both mean a lot to me, and I just want you to be happy-you both deserve it, with all that's going on," she said.

Nick was unable to suppress a smile. He was touched, really; Trubel meant a lot to him, too, and knowing the sentiment was returned was heartening. Even more heartening was that she didn't even address the fact that he was cheating on Juliette.

"Yeah, that's why I haven't been totally honest," he admitted softly, turning his attention back to the road as the light switched to green again. "I know it's not exactly the nicest thing to be using her as a cover, but I don't want to arouse suspicion by suddenly breaking up with her. That would put Hank in even more danger than he is as just my partner and friend, and given what I just found out about my mom, I don't want to have to worry about him to that extent, too."

"I get that, but you know you won't be able to avoid it forever, right?" Trubel had to point out, not wanting to bring Nick down but simply telling him the reality.

Nick sighed.

"Yes," he said, his relief dampening into resignation. He and Hank were both aware they wouldn't be able to stay under the radar forever; just like he wouldn't be able to hide his affiliation with Hadrian's Wall forever. "But the longer we can, the more time we'll have to prevent whatever BlacK Claw might do when they catch on."

That was a pretty risky scheme, but Trubel seemed to think it was a good one because she let it go.

"Well, if that's what you think is best, I won't mess with it," she surrendered, undoing her seatbelt and climbing from the vehicle.

Nick emitted another rush of breath, resting his head against the seat and closing his eyes. He hadn't been ready for that confrontation, but it had gone surprisingly well.   
That said, it had also brought up another concern: if Trubel had figured out he and Hank were together, had anyone else?

He was starting to think maybe they should at least inform their friends before the choice was taken away from them. Monroe and Rosalee, for example; they could be trusted to keep it to themselves, too, if they explained why. And Wu would probably just want to know it wouldn't interfere with their dynamic at work.

Of course, that wasn't a decision he should make on his own, since it involved more than just him. He'd get Hank's opinion on it and then, perhaps they would come clean to Monroe and Rosalee the next day.

* * *

With Nick and Hank's assurances that they would have Hadrian's Wall deal with the void the Wesen Council had left behind, Monroe and Rosalee thought their day would be much less wearing, or at least less intense. And, for the most part it was-until Monroe brought in their mail.

Rosalee was rifling through the stack as Monroe prepared to head to a job, sorting the letters into piles.

"Electric bill, telephone bill, advertising-oh, we won a million dollars. Yippee," she tore that last one up with a roll of her eyes, knowing it was a scam. The letter she saw beneath it, however, was something else entirely; she paused as she read the name of the sender, recognizing it as one she hadn't thought about for many years. One she hadn't wanted to think about.

To start, Monroe didn't notice how she was staring at the envelope, preoccupied with gathering his tools with an eye on the clock; he was running late for his repair job.

"All right, I gotta go. I'm gonna be late. It should only take about an hour. "He looked up to bid Rosalee farewell, and that was when he saw what she was holding. "What is that?"

Rosalee's forehead wrinkled.

"I'm not sure. It's from a guy I used to know a long time in Seattle," she replied uneasily, still examining the letter and debating whether or not she even wanted to open it-which Monroe probably sensed.

"You want to open it?"he asked, approaching her tentatively.

"I'm not sure," Rosalee said honestly.

"You want me to open it?" Monroe offered, trying to be helpful. He could tell that this letter was upsetting his wife for some reason and he wanted her to know he was happy to deal with it if she couldn't.

"I'm not sure," the Fuchsbau repeated, her bottom lip catching between her teeth. She really didn't think she wanted to know what Tony-the sender-had written. She hadn't spoken to him in ages, and there was a reason for that. 

On the other hand, there had to be a reason he was writing her, and she reasoned it was probably better to just find out instead of wondering.

So, she began to rip the envelope open.

Seeing her open the letter, Monroe backed off a little.

"You know what? Maybe I shouldn't hear this."

"There's nothing you shouldn't hear," Rosalee told him firmly, shooting him a pointed look as she withdrew the message. Inhaling deeply, she read it aloud. " 'Dear R, don't know if you're ever going to get this, but I'm going to try, anyway. Just want to let you know that Carlos died-you can guess of what. He was a cool guy, and I'm going to miss him. Don't know what your feeling is about him these days, but he meant a lot to you at one time. I still remember that song he wrote for you-,"

"There was a song?" Monroe interjected, eyebrows flying up. He really didn't sound like he appreciated where this was going.

Neither did Rosalee; the more she read, the more uncomfortable she became. The reminder of the time in her life when she'd been with this man was not a pleasant one, and definitely not one she wanted to subject Monroe to; she stopped reading, tossing the letter aside.

"I don't want to read anymore of that. Those were not good guys, and that song was terrible," she concluded, heaving a sharp exhale. "I'd rather just forget that entire part of my life."

Monroe probably would have pried, except it was abundantly clear that Rosalee didn't want to discuss it. Therefore, he gave her a commiserating glance.

"Me, too. Not your life-I mean that part of my life. In fact, everything before I met you." He was attempting to lighten her mood, and he succeeded, managing to evoke a smile as he covered her hand with his.

Yet, he wasn't entirely settled himself, a sense of foreboding invading him at the timing of this letter. He knew that 'that part' of Rosalee's past involved some rather sketchy Wesen, which was practically the requirement for Black Claw's agents from what he'd seen. Could this Tony guy be contacting her now be because of them somehow, to get her to join or to target her because of her friendship with Nick?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy god this took a long time and it became a monster. dialogue ripped from episode 5x14 so disclaimer for that  
> also haha i'm learning a lot about portland by writing this fic

Hank was rather bemused to receive Nick's text about coming clean to Monroe and Rosalee about their relationship-which he'd only been able to read after finagling with his HW phone for an extended period of time-especially since it had been his idea to hide it in the first place. He'd been waiting for Nick to update him on his assignment, and that definitely hadn't been what he'd expected to receive; nor had he expected to hear that Trubel apparently already knew.

Interested to hear what had lead to these conclusions, Hank deigned to pick Nick up for work the following morning, meeting him in his driveway about twenty minutes before they were scheduled to start, after stopping to get them both coffee.

"Thanks," Nick said as he climbed into the front seat and Hank handed him his drink. 

Hank offered him a brief grin.

"Sure thing." He took a drink of his own beverage before speaking again. "So, Trubel was onto us the whole time?"

Nick huffed ruefully, sipping at his coffee.

"Yeah, apparently, we weren't fooling her at all."

"And you think that means we should tell Monroe and Rosalee?" the elder wondered, lifting his eyebrows, curious about Nick's reasoning.

He watched Nick's throat flex as he swallowed and took a breath, then nodded.

"Well, I figure if Trubel knows, it might only be a matter of time before they figure it out, too-if they haven't already-and they're my, our friends. We can trust them."

Hank had to struggle to keep his gaze on the road. He had made the initial suggestion about concealing their relationship, but only because he thought it would be suspicious if Nick and Juliette were to abruptly split. If Black Claw was watching them, they might catch onto what Nick was really doing; Juliette would be a good cover. It wasn't exactly honourable to use her like that, but Hank's primary concern was Nick.

That said, he expected it might not be long before the people closest to them saw through the deception and realized what was going on between them. To be honest, though, he hadn't thought Trubel would be the first.

"How did Trubel take it" he asked carefully, thinking her reaction might indicate what Monroe and Rosalee's would be.

"Pretty well, actually," the younger said, lips turning up in a soft smile. "She agreed not to tell Juliette until we were cool with it, and said she just wanted us to be happy."

Hank's own grin returned, morphing into an appreciative one. He knew there was a reason he liked the other Grimm; she hadn't known them as long or as well as Monroe and Rosalee, yet she obviously cared enough to be gracious about this. That made him optimistic about how their older friends would take this news.

"Well, that was nice of her," he commented sincerely, once more trying to stay concentrated on his driving. He still had questions, though. "Did she agree to keep everything else happening secret, too?"

Seeing what Hank was hinting at, Nick expanded.

"Actually, that was how we got on the subject of you and I. After the mission, after grabbing Rankin and Chione interrogating him about Black Claw's plans with the Council and for Portland, Trubel asked me why we weren't telling Juliette, and wouldn't it be safer to be honest with her, and then she asked if it was because we were a couple."

They were arriving in the station's parking garage now, however, neither of them moved to leave the car, Hank pressing for details.

"This Rankin guy, he was pretty high in Black Claw's ranks?"

"One of their founders," the Grimm confirmed. "He had insight into a lot of their plans, and what happened to the council. The agent who massacred them was originally loyal, but they turned him and planned the execution once the council became aware of Black Claw's existence so they could do exactly what Monroe was afraid of: to create anarchy and chaos; a power vacuum for them to fill."

"What about here? You said he told you what they had planned for Portland?" Hank probed fervently, a crease materializing on his weathered forehead. He was sorry about the Council, but whatever was going to happen in his city was a little more urgent.

Nick got a frown to mirror his.

"They're going to mess with the upcoming mayoral election somehow-and Rankin said the Captain would help them."

Hank turned his head, his concern deepening. He didn't like the sound of that; considering Renard's position both within the election and the city, Black Claw could use him to wreak some serious damage. If he went along with it, of course-maybe he wouldn't if he had foreknowledge.

"Do you think we should warn him?"

Hesitation crept visibly into his partner's features and Hank could guess why. It was probably the same reason Hank had been a little reluctant to make the suggestion: they still didn't know if even telling Renard that Hadrian's Wall existed and in what capacity was smart. Nick still didn't fully trust the Captain, and Hank recalled that Chione had said explicitly not to bring him when they'd had their introduction. He had to believe she had good motivation for that.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts were going in, Nick revealed that very thing.

"I told Chione we were going to have to and she agreed; but she also said not to tell him the location of their headquarters or that Chavez was in charge. She doesn't like him, and she trusts him even less than we do because she says she knows more about him than we do."

"Huh," Hank emitted a thoughtful noise, unable to refrain from wondering what Chione could know about Renard that they didn't. He didn't talk about himself much-at least not to them-so it was probably a lot."So, we are going to tell him?"

Nick spread his palms.

"I guess so. We're going to to have to be careful about how we tell him, but he does have to know."

Hank had to agree. Though he wasn't Renard's biggest fan, either, he was even less a fan of lies. This would still be a bit of an omission, but it was better than nothing-and Renard didn't need to know about HW's inner workings in order to make the right decision about working with Black Claw.

There was a temporary silence, during which Nick drained the last of his coffee and stretched in his seat, anxiety creeping into his face-anxiety that Hank guessed had nothing to do with Renard.

"There was something else Rankin said, something even worse than threatening the city," Nick added, sounding much more troubled than a second ago. Hank gave him his full attention, concerned. "They know about my mom, Hank. Black Claw knows she's alive and they know she's like me."

Oh, Hank thought, horrified. That was much worse.

"Oh, Nick, man, that's-do you know how?" he risked people seeing him when he grasped Nick's knee to express his empathy. Nick didn't have to tell Hank what it meant that Black Claw was aware of his mother's existence; she was a Grimm, presumably with many enemies and an organization like this would not consider her a friend-they would target her, either to get at nick or simply take out another notable Grimm.

Nick shook his head helplessly, scrubbing a hand over his chin.

"No. But I imagine the same resources that allowed them to find out about me could easily have lead them to my mother. She has had...incidents here in Portland, after all."

Hank's lips twitched ruefully at the generous description of his mother's activities in their town; he tried to conceal it, though, as this wasn't really the time for amusement. He could see this had Nick extremely on edge and he didn't want to offend him by making light of it.

"You think they know about what happened with Adalind or those FBI agents last year?" he queried, shifting his fingers to where Nick's were trembling atop his thigh.

"I don't know," Nick sighed, lowering his gaze to their entwined hands. "But she's in danger, however they caught onto her. Hadrian's Wall said they would protect her-if she became one of them, too. So, I asked her to come back, but I'm not sure if she will."

"Why wouldn't she?" Hank wondered, arching his eyebrows. If Nick vouched for them, why wouldn't Kelly Burkhardt want to ally with Hadrian's Wall?

"She doesn't' give allegiance to any group easily, and since she's had no previous contact with them, I doubt Hadrian's wall would be any different. She trusts no one," Nick explained flatly, giving another heavy exhale and biting the inside of his cheek. "I just hope she sees that in these circumstances, changing that might be the smarter thing to do."

Hank rubbed his thumb over Nick's knuckles soothingly, not knowing how else to comfort him. He'd wanted this, to be the one Nick leaned on in these situations, but he wasn't used to it; he wasn't used to being the one giving support in these matters. Recently, and ever since he'd been introduced to how the world really worked, it had been Nick helping him, being the one to support all of them while the most Hank did was just try and make sure he wasn't alone. Now he was more than Nick's friend, though, he wanted it to go both ways. He wanted Nick to be able to look to him for solutions, to take some of the burden off him. So far, he thought he was doing okay, but things were getting serious. This was Nick's mother, and Nick wouldn't cope well if he lost her again; he didn't know if recruiting her to HW was the right call, but he knew that wasn't what Nick needed to hear.

Nick seemed to understand what he wasn't saying, fortunately, shooting Hank another grateful smile, more meaningful than his earlier one. He couldn't fail to realize what Hank was trying to do, and even though Hank thought he wasn't that great at it, he could see it helped at least somewhat.

Sadly, he also knew they couldn't stay in there forever; besides the fact that anyone could walk by and see them holding hands, they had work to do.

As if to remind them, the moment was broken by the sensation of Hank's phone vibrating in his jacket.

He sighed, grudgingly diverting his focus from Nick to answer it.

"Griffin."

" _Hey, Hank, it's me. I just found two bodies_ ,"Wu's familiar voice came through the speaker, not bothering with a greeting before launching into business. " _Looks like an animal attack, but I don't think so._ "

Hank gave a second sigh, a touch exasperated. He hadn't expected anything different-dealing with bodies was their job-but with the threat of Black Claw becoming more real, he'd hoped they might catch a break. Naturally, that had been a futile hope

"All right. Where are we going?"

" _Corner of Northwest Overton and 25th_ ," Wu directed him. 

The address was familiar, and Hank's frown intensified once again.

"Isn't that near your place?"

" _Yeah._ " There was a note of unconcealed distress in the sergeant's voice when he confirmed Hank's guess. " _I was on my way to work when I stumbled on them, and I called it in. The vics are my neighbours, and they look like they were mauled by something big._ "

"That's rough," Hank gave his condolences, wincing. It couldn't have been easy for Wu to find the corpses of people he knew-even if they hadn't been his friends. "We're on our way."

"What happened at Wu's?" Nick quipped as Hank ended the call and went to switch his car's engine back on.

"He says he found the bodies of two of his neighbours on his way to work," Hank informed Nick, giving his hand a last squeeze then forcing himself to let go.

Nick's eyes widened, momentarily distracted from his personal concerns.

"Does he know what killed them?"

Hank shook his head, pulling back out of the garage.

"He says it looked like an animal attack, but he doesn't think that's what it was, so I'm thinking Wesen."

A wry laugh bubbled out of Nick's lips at his lackadaisical tone, and he nodded. With the way their lives were, it couldn't be anything else; but with current circumstances, he doubted it was just a run-of-the-mill Wesen.

Wu lived in an apartment complex not that far from the station, so it wouldn't be long until they found out.

* * *

Squad cars were all over the block when they arrived; the yellow crime scene tape was being put in place around a section of the sidewalk near the rear, which, even from this distance, they could see was streaked with blood.

Wu was there, in uniform, talking to Franco with a clearly dismayed expression on his face and, as Hank parked, he caught a snatch of the conversation.

"...bite marks, I think, but I don't know. There was so much blood, I couldn't see much of anything else," Wu was saying, a deep furrow between his brows. He cut off upon sighting Hank and Nick's approach, and went to meet them on the edge of the sidewalk.

"Hey, guys. this is definitely not how I wanted to spend my morning."

"I don't think this is how any of us wanted to spend our morning," Nick commented consolingly, also adopting a solicitous manner as he pressed Wu to explain. "What exactly happened, Wu?"

Wu planted his hands on his hips, looking down and taking a deep breath.

"I was just heading out to my car to go to the precinct when I saw the blood. I went to take a look to see if someone was hurt, called out to see if they needed help. No one answered, but it was because they were already beyond my help. My neighbours, Daphne and James Kriminski-they've lived across the hall from me for the last seven years."

"Are they Wesen?" Hank queried, forgetting for an instant that, even if they were, Wu wouldn't have been able to tell.

Wu shrugged.

"I don't think so; I've never seen them Woge," he took another steadying inhale, changing tacks. "Look, I've known them since they moved in. They're good people; Daphne volunteers at the hospital in her spare time, and they were out here cleaning trash off the street like they do every few day. There's very little reason why anyone would want to hurt them."

Hank met Nick's gaze as it shifted to him, conveying silently that that meant nothing. Wesen could be masters at hiding in plain sight, at disguising what they really were.  
At the same time, however, the fact that these two were dead might mean Wu was right.

"Okay," Hank decided to take his friend's word until they could prove otherwise, folding his arms. "Let's get a look at them."

Wu smoothed his palms over the tops of his legs, then lead them to the tarp on the grass. Hank crouched down to remove the plastic cover, exposing the man and woman beneath.

They were as shredded as Wu had described. There were bite marks on their hands, and their clothes were torn all over, as was the flesh under. Blood oozed out of various cuts on their figures from head to foot, and was even smeared over their mouths.

Grimacing, Hank reached inside the man's jacket, searching for his wallet. It was still there, and when he opened it, so were his credit cards and money.

"Cash and credit cards are still here, so money clearly wasn't the motivation," he pronounced aloud, watching as Nick copied him and discovered the same of the woman.

"So, what was?" Nick posed his next question for him.

Wu cocked his head to the side in consideration-but only for a second.

"Could this be Black Claw?" he dropped his voice so only Hank and Nick could hear him, his consternation increasing. "If they actually were Wesen, could they have been killed because they wouldn't join or something?"

Nick glanced at Hank again, more pointedly this time. That wasn't what they were thinking Black Claw had done this for-but they didn't tell Wu that.

"Maybe," Hank humoured him, straightening up as Nick circled the bodies to stand beside him. "We'll need to do some background on them, and test some of this blood. Maybe whatever killed them left some on them, or some other DNA to trace them by."

"Have you talked to any of your other neighbours, to see if they saw what happened?" Nick catechized, scanning the perimeter for anything else they could use to see the incident.

"I hadn't gotten around to it yet, but we've got surveillance in the area so I've got some guys pulling the footage for the last twelve hours. Hopefully, that'll turn up someone," Wu answered, though he didn't' sound positive.

Hank tilted his head forward; if that was the best they were going to get, that was what they would work with.

"We'll look at it back at the precinct then, and in the meantime, we'll need to know everything you do about the vics."

* * *

"They're originally from Tillamuk; moved here to be closer to their son. His name is William; he lives a couple of miles away, he's a mechanic with his own garage that he's had for about 9 years now," the sergeant detailed his neighbours' history-what he knew, anyways-once they returned to the station. Hank was combing the surveillance video with Wu watching over his shoulder, while Nick checked the Kriminskis' records next to him.

"Have you ever met the son?" Hank heard Nick ask; that could be a lead.

"Yeah, I've met him a couple times," Wu said without a fuss. "He's a nice kid, helps Daphne at the hospital and loans them his car any time theirs has trouble. He had a bit of a record when he was younger, but hasn't been in any trouble for years now."

Hank was only half-listening, his focus on the footage scrolling across his screen. Thus far, he'd seen nothing helpful, but as the video passed midnight, he thought he caught sight of a potential witness. A man coming down the road right around the approximate time of the Kriminskis' murder.

"Hey," he interrupted Wu to draw his companions' attention to the image. "I think i got something."

Wu immediately locked on the screen, bringing his face right up to it to get a clearer view. Hank saw his eyes light with recognition.

"That's Michael Doyle. He lives in my building, too-he just moved in like a few weeks ago."

He stopped at the look Hank gave him; that was right when Black Claw had begun making their appearance in the city. There was no way that was a coincidence.

"He was at the scene right at the estimated of death. He could have seen what happened," Nick said what was on all their minds. "We should bring him in."

For an instant, it looked like Wu might argue-and they would have an issue doing this without his cooperation-but then, he nodded.

"All right."

Nick slanted his eyes gradually in the direction of the Captain's office.

"We should let him know what's going on; if this is Black Claw, we might need him to cover for us," he observed, and Hank knew he didn't only mean about the case.

Hank got to his feet once more; if Nick wanted to do this now, he would.

Wu didn't know what else was going on, but he went along with it, anyways, and the three of them went to Renard's office. 

"Yeah," Renard's voice called when Nick knocked on the polished door. The younger detective turned the handle and lead the way inside.

"Sorry to disturb you, but we've gotta talk," he said seriously.

Renard lifted his head from whatever paperwork he'd been perusing, a single thin brow cocking mildly as his subordinates gathered around his desk.

"Something I need to know?"

Hank caught Nick's fleeting glance in his direction, and he gave his partner a reassuring one in return. They hadn't worked out precisely how to warn Renard yet, but Hank trusted Nick would find the right words.

"We have a double homicide near Wu's; the vics were his neighbours," he lead with their actual job first, laying out the current case. He looked over to Wu, and the sergeant continued for him.

They looked like they were mauled by an animal, but there have never been any animal attacks in my area before."

"So, you think it's Wesen," Renard surmised.

"We think it's Black Claw," Hank corrected without hesitation, prompting the Captain's other eyebrow to join the first.

"Do you have proof?"he questioned, resting his palms on the surface of his desk.

Nick shook his head.

"Not yet. But we think we might have a suspect-another of Wu's neighbours who moved in right when Black Claw was supposed to have."

Renard couldn't miss the implication, yet his features remained merely curious, as if it didn't worry him much.

Perhaps, Hank thought, what else they had to tell him might manage it.

"There's more," the Grimm interceded after a beat, Adam's apple flexing as he swallowed. "Black Claw might be targeting you, Captain; not to kill, but to get you to help them with something they've got planned for the mayoral election."

Renard wasn't immediately forthcoming with a reaction, reclining slowly in his chair and steepling his fingers in front of him. The silence was tense: Hank had a feeling Renard wasn't happy, having this thrown at him out of the blue like that, and he would definitely want a proper explanation.

"How do you know?" the Captain inquired, his tone as deceptively calm as his expression.

Nick bit the inside of his cheek.

"I haven't been totally honest with you about what I've been doing to fight these guys," he inhaled deeply, evidently grappling with how best to articulate the real extent of his recent activities. 

" _We_ haven't," Hank rushed into help him, sharing the responsibility for Nick's deception, making it clear it wasn't just his choice.

Renard's eyes flicked toward him-and Wu-still giving away nothing.

"Oh?"

"It isn't only Meisner and Chione we've been working with; there's a whole organization. They call themselves Hadrian's Wall, and they've been running operations against Black Claw for months, and we're not helping them," Nick confessed, so far not leaving anything out-except who was in charge. "I tagged along on one yesterday, which was capturing one of their founders, a man named Samuel Rankin. Chione interrogated him, and he admitted that they were going to destroy Portland because I was here-and he seemed pretty confident that you would be a part of it."

Renard stared at him, at last showing emotion-in the form of a suitable mix of shock and scepticism. To Hank's surprise, he showed no offense at Black Claw's assumption that he would aid them, only that his employees had been lying to him.

"And you didn't think I should know all this from the start?"  
Hank saw Nick scuff his boots on the floor, obviously chastened; he knew why Nick hadn't kept Renard completely in the loop, and that was why he'd done it, too. He was about to voice his motives, but Nick beat him.

"The woman who recruited us, the one who saved us from the ambush, well, you heard her say not to bring you in. I thought whatever her reason for leaving you out, she probably wouldn't like me telling you the intimate details of their operation. That was my choice-Hank and Wu were just honouring my wishes."

Hank appreciated him defending them, but he didn't want Nick taking all the blame.

"We agreed-we could you ourselves, and we didn't. Sorry, Captain, but right now, there are things more important than recriminations." His apology was sincere, but perfunctory; he was more interested in how Renard hadn't defended himself. "You're not going to do what they want, are you?"

Now Renard looked offended.

"Of course not. I don't them in control of the city. There's a reason I'm supporting Andrew Dixon; he may be _Kehrseite_ , but he has the right ideas for how to lead us, how to make Portland better. I wouldn't go along with anything that would jeopardize that."

It was a good speech, but Hank couldn't tell if Nick was convinced-Wu didn't look like he was-from the way he was staring at Renard as if trying to peel him apart. He wasn't, not entirely; he'd worked for Renard a long time, but discovering that he was Wesen and one of those Royals to boot had altered how he saw him. He had too many strings, and what drove him was a mystery-and Hank didn't like that. It made him seriously question whether he would actually cooperate with Black Claw.

If Nick had further questions, he didn't raise them. To Hank's bemusement, he let the matter rest.

"Good. Because if this case is related to them, they're responsible for yet another grisly murder," he declared, switching topics.

Renard pursed his lips, brows still drawn low, appearing also slightly surprised at the sudden return to their previous subject, but he rolled with it.

"And I'll make sure we get justice for it. Go get your witness," he gave them permission to pursue their lead, separating his fingers to flick them at the other three men.

They did as they were bidden, Wu directing them back to his building and the apartment unit of Michael Doyle.

He rapped on the door, and the man from the video answered pretty rapidly.

Hank's first impression was that he didn't really look like a Michael: his features were similar to Meisner's, but less weathered, his eyes slitted and his beard thinner and auburn.

"Drew? What's going on?" he greeted the sergeant, and Hank thought he detected a trace of a European accent, but it was like he was trying to disguise it with an American one. Judging by the slight arch of Nick's eyebrow, he clocked it as well.

Wu, on the other hand was blatantly focused on something else, scrutinizing his neighbour closely even as he responded in a conversely apologetic manner.

"Sorry, Michael, but this is Detective Burkhardt and Detective Griffin; they need to take you in for questioning about what happened this morning."

Hank swore he saw a sneer start to form on the man's mouth, but it was gone before he could be sure.

"You mean the Kriminskis' being killed? I saw them, it was so awful," he said, putting on an appropriately aggrieved tone.

"You saw them?" Nick repeated suspiciously, crossing his arms. "Why didn't you report it?"

Michael held out his phone, showing them that he'd been in the process of dialing 911.

"I was just about to. I was so freaked out last night, I had no idea what to say. I wasn't even sure it was real. I mean, that animal-it started coming after me, too, me and my girlfriend were-,"

"Hold on, your girlfriend?" Wu interrupted, confusion entering his features. "Does she live here with you? I've never seen her before."

Michael lifted his shoulders.

"She kind of keeps to herself. Leaves the house early, comes home late-last night, she called me, though, and said her car broke down, so I went to pick her up. That's where I was going when I saw Daphne and James," he explained.

"We're going to need you to come down to the station with us and make a formal statement," Nick forestalled him. He stepped forward, peering further into the apartment. "Is your girlfriend here?"

"No," Michael said. "She left early again this morning before I could convince her to come with me to talk to you guys about the attack."

"Well, we're going to need to get in touch with her, too. What's her name?"Hank pressed, waving at Wu to write the information down.

Wu withdrew his notebook, and Michael seemed to get the message because he sighed quietly and complied.

"Of course. Her name is Bethany Clayton, and her number is 503-746-1888."

All three lawmen froze as Doyle relayed his girlfriend's name-the initials of which just happened to be the same as Black Claw's.

Wu worked hard to conceal his unease as he wrote the number onto his notebook; at the same time, Michael grabbed his jacket off his couch, sliding his arms into the sleeves and locking his door before walking out into the hall.

"I'll text her if you want, tell her she has to talk to you guys, too," he offered, brandishing his cell again and beginning to compose said text. That piqued Hank's suspicions even more; he could just be trying to be helpful, but he could also be warning his girlfriend

"That would be appreciated, but I'm sure you understand if we look at the message before you send it," Nick requested, maintaining his professionalism, though Hank could see he wasn't buying the accommodating act. No one was that cooperative.

Michael nodded, typing into the device as he followed the police out of the building. He showed Wu the message for his approval;it must not have contained anything Wu didn't like because he let him send it and bundled him into the backseat of his squad car.

Nick and Hank followed him in their car, Hank watching Nick roll his lips under out of the corner of his eye and guessing what he was thinking. There were clues piling up here; Black Claw was setting them up for something and Hank suspected it was to get rid of Wu. He wasn't certain, but he was sure Nick suspected the same thing.

That was affirmed when they arrived back at the precinct and Nick raised that theory.

"I think this guy might be who we're looking for-or his girlfriend. And I think murdering Wu's neighbours was their attempt at going after him." He paused, then added, "We might need Monroe and Rosalee's help in figuring out what kind of Wesen we're looking for, though, so we should talk to them after we interview Doyle."

"And maybe so we can have that other conversation with them?" Hank suggested quietly, still watching his partner from the corner of his eye. When Nick said nothing, he knew he was correct. "You ready for that?"

His partner didn't respond immediately, seeming to be mentally coaching himself. Hank understood; he was nervous, too.

"I think so," Nick finally stated, much steadier than Hank expected. "I mean, we might as well get it over with. And we can trust them not to tell anyone else if we explain why."

Hank nodded slowly. He agreed with that.

"Yeah. But maybe we should wait til after we find out murderer?"

"Sure," Nick said, undoing his seatbelt and the two of them exited the vehicle to enter their workplace, Wu already ahead of them with Doyle in tow.

They gathered in the closest interrogation room; Michael wasn't handcuffed since he wasn't under arrest, and he sat at the table, with Hank and Nick positioned across from him.

"So, you said you were picking up your girlfriend when you and she were targeted by the same animal that killed your neighbours?" Nick began, his eyes lasered on their subject, features arranged to mask his scepticism. "Did you see what kind of animal it was?"

Doyle shook his head again.

"No. It was dark; all I could tell was that it was big, it was furry, and it had really sharp teeth. I heard it snarling and I heard my neighbours screaming. So, I just like ran."

Hank and Nick glanced at one another; that could also describe lots of Wesen, and they highly doubted any animal that would be in an area like Wu's was capable of the level of carnage they'd seen at the murder scene.

"Have you ever seen any kind of animal that could do that in the area before?" Hank questioned dubiously, now certain Doyle was lying; but whether he was doing it to cover, or he really didn't know what the had seen, was still unclear.

"No," Doyle denied, "I thought it might be a really big feral dog or something, but I don't know. I didn't stop to look: I was more concerned in protecting Bethany and getting us away from it. I mean, I saw the blood left behind by its attack on James and Daphne-I didn't want that to happen to us."

"You saw the blood? Where?" Nick interjected again.

"I don't know," Doyle wrung his hands, face screwed up like he was having difficulty remembering. "Everywhere, like on the sidewalk and the grass."

Hank found that peculiar as it had just been the previous night. this guy didn't look old enough to be having memory problems;it could be trauma, but he didn't seem that traumatized, either.

And then, there was the question of why, if he'd really seen that much blood, he hadn't called the police instead of waiting for the morning?

"You saw blood and you didn't call 911?" Nick said precisely what he was thinking, frowning at the witness.

To his credit, Doyle didn't miss a beat, explaining his delay without hesitation.

"Well, like I told you, the thing came after me and Beth before I had the chance, and by the time we got away, we were both so scared, I couldn't even think. Neither of us was in any state to talk to anybody," he defended valiantly. But neither Hank or Nick were accepting that-there was no excuse for putting off reporting a crime for as long as he had.

"You know, most people, something like that happens, the first thing they want to do is call the police," Hank mentioned, propping his elbows on the table and leaning forward.  
This time, he knew he saw that flash of malice in Doyle's gaze, and it was directed at the door-where Wu was tapping on the glass to get their attention.

"Excuse us a second," Nick cut the interrogation off before Doyle could give another bogus excuse, rising from his perch on the lip of the table.

Hank also stood from his chair, tailing him to see what Wu wanted.

"Hey, tests came back on the blood on the Kriminskis' clothes," he told them, opening the door and speaking in an undertone so Michael wouldn't overhear.

"Animal?" Nick quipped in a tone that suggested he highly doubted it.

Wu shook his head.

"All human; but three different types, not only two."

The detectives both cast a glance over to the witness, who, despite what he had told them, was perfectly composed.

"He said he and his girlfriend were chased by an animal they saw where you found the vics," Hank commented, disbelief increasing.

"Well, that's tough to believe, considering there was no animal DNA found," Wu debunked his neighbour's claim wryly.

"Do we have an ID on the third blood type?" Nick inquired; that would help wrap this up. But they weren't that lucky.

"Nope, not in our system."

They all paused, contemplating Michael's story and the inconsistencies with the forensics. Hank saw Nick scratch at the back of his neck. They'd gotten as far as they could with standard procedures; they were going to have to come at this from another direction.

"Okay, I think we're gonna talk to Monroe and Rosalee, maybe let him at the victims' clothes to see if he can identify what kind of Wesen we're dealing with, or who it is. You mind getting that for us?"Nick said,

Wu didn't bat an eyelid at his intention to use Monroe like a bloodhound; he merely jerked his chin at Doyle.

"What are we doing with him?"

"Get him to write down everything he remembers, then hold him until he hears from his girlfriend. We can't charge anyone until we know who the Wesen is," Hank directed. That was, unfortunately, their only recourse for the time being.

Wu acquiesced, going to retrieve the evidence they needed as they gave Doyle their instructions before going to call Monroe.

* * *

Monroe and Rosalee came with them to the crime scene after they'd given them the rundown of the case; Nick didn't bring up their other news, Hank assuming it was because he wanted to deliver it in person. It was definitely not something to just blurt out over the phone.

Though the crime scene tape was still up around the block, there was no one to hinder them and they were able to stride past it, convening around the spot where the bodies had been found.

"All right," Monroe said, squaring his shoulders and letting out a rush of air through his nose to clear it up in preparation. "Let me have it."

Nick took out the bag with the victims' bloodied shirts, opening it wide for the Blutbad to plunge his head inside and take a good whiff of the stench emanating from the material.

"I don't know how you do that. It would make me gag," Rosalee remarked, wrinkling her nose.

Monroe didn't say anything for a moment, jaw working thoughtfully as he took in the scent in a rather dog-like manner. Hank had seen him do this before, but it was still weird-an unusual reminder that Monroe wasn't entirely human.

"Okay, I got it," he said finally, rearing back from the bag."And yes, it would make you gag."

"So, can you tell what kind of Wesen attacked these people?" Hank wondered hopefully, searching Monroe for any indication.

The Blutbad's features contorted, like he knew what it was, it was right at the front of his mind but he just couldn't voice it.

"It's hard to tell with the blood of the victims mixed in; it smells somewhat Blutbad-ian, but not exactly." He sniffed the air around him, eyes scanning the crimson smears on the asphalt below. "I can tell you where it came from, though."

The detectives mulled that over; that might be beneficial. If it lead them to Doyle's apartment, they would know for certain that either he or his girlfriend were the culprit.

"Okay," Nick gestured for Monroe to go ahead, closing the bag and handing it to Hank to stow back in the car. Hank did so, then ran to catch up to them.

Monroe took them not into the more rural section of the area, but back into the apartment building. In fact, the trail was a familiar one-the very one they'd taken to Doyle's place, confirming Hank's suspicions of who they were looking for.

When they halted outside Doyle's door again, though, Monroe's nose wrinkled.

"Hang on, I'm getting something else besides Doyle."

"Ugh, I smell it, too," Rosalee piped up, her expression also morphing into one of revulsion. That didn't bode well.

"What is it?" Hank asked, turning to the female Wesen.

She shared another glance with her husband before uttering a single word. "Death."

"I don't think your victims died out there on the street," Monroe mused, seeming puzzled by that revelation. Then, it was replaced by comprehension. "Hang on, last night was a full moon, right? I mean, technically, it was the first night of the full moon, 'cause there's three nights of full moon. We could be dealing with-and I don't want anyone to panic-a Lycanthrope."

The horror in his wife's face increased. "Oh my god."

Hank and Nick, though, stared at him, nonplussed.

"Is that a Wesen?"

"Yes and no," Monroe said in that same slow, uncertain tone.

"We should have something about it in the books at the shop," Rosalee declared.

* * *

It didn't take long for Monroe to find the book they needed once they descended into the Spice Shop's basement, and he laid the page down on the table in front of Hank and Nick.

"This is a Lycanthrope."

Hank leaned forward, inspecting the drawing on the aged parchment. It was of a person's head and shoulders, but they were lined with shaggy fur and the features were more pointed and feral and distinctly canine. It was eerily reminiscent of a werewolf, or a werewolf as far as media was concerned.

According to the description, it wasn't a type of Wesen, exactly; it was more of an affliction of some sort.

"It's a disease?" he quoted, that statement doing nothing to lessen his confusion.

"Yeah, specific to Blutbaden," Monroe said, dropping onto the stool opposite Nick.

" 'Lycanthropia is a genetic mutation which presents itself on rare occasion in Blutbaden. IT's transmitted as a recessive trait which rarely affect the offspring; when Lycanthropia manifests physically, it's only during the three nights of the full moon,' " Rosalee read, her brows furrowing.

Hank's did the same.

"We talking werewolves?" he surmised sceptically.

"In a way," Monroe said, sounding reluctant to describe it like that. "It's a condition that makes Blutbaden temporarily insane."

"And if anybody was to encounter one during the full moon, they would've most likely thought they were dealing with a werewolf," Rosalee interjected, clearly troubled by the prospect.

Monroe's addition wasn't any less troubling.

"I heard stories growing up about Blutbaden families that would kill their own children if they developed symptoms. So, I thought this disease had been wiped out like a hundred years ago."

That only intensified the general consternation. Evidently, the disease was still around, so either those families hadn't succeeded in wiping it out, or Black Claw had managed to recruit a family that hadn't taken that stance.

"Do we think Doyle is the Lycanthrope?" Nick quizzed, addressing Hank more than the others.

"Maybe it's his girlfriend," Hank opined. "We haven't seen or heard form her yet, and Doyle said he was going to get her when he saw the murder. Maybe he was going to rein her in after her kill."

Nick had to give that one serious consideration. the girl hadn't been caught on camera, but Doyle had been human when he had.

"Maybe you should take it to HW, see if they have any information on either of them," Rosalee suggested.

Nick's phone chose that instant to ring, almost as if triggered by the direction of their discussion.

"It's Wu," he read off the screen, quickly hitting the answer button then putting it on speaker so Hank could hear. "Hey, Wu, you're on speaker."

" _Doyle's girlfriend called as we were finishing up with him. She says she'll talk, but we're going to have to go and get her since her car's still in the shop and she's somewhere she can't get a cab or bus apparently,_ " Wu didn't sound like he entirely bought that, and Hank and Nick honestly didn't, either. There were very few places nowadays where you couldn't access some form of public transportation-as in none. This sounded just a little too convenient. " _You guys got anything_?"

"We think we're dealing with a Lycanthrope, and it could be the woman. You can't do this alone," Nick informed the sergeant.

Hank didn't have to see Wu to know he was completely aghast.

" _A Lycanthrope? What the hell is that?_ "

"Like a Blutbad on steroids," the elder summarized concisely what he'd gleaned from their lesson. Since none of his companions refuted him, apparently, it was accurate.

Static crackled through the speaker as Wu sighed.

" _Great. Well, then you should probably get back here so we can get her_."

"We'll be there as soon as we can," Nick agreed, hanging up and hastening to his feet. "Whoever the Lycanthrope is, if their transformation is tied to the full moon, they're going to kill again tonight. I think we're going to need to take them down now."

"How?" Hank said, getting to his feet as well.

Nick looked to Monroe and Rosalee, both of whom raised their palms cluelessly.

"Tranquilize them for now, and then we'll figure out a more permanent solution later," the Grimm decided in lieu of any other options.

Rosalee's expression brightened.

"That I can do." She left the table and retrieved a bottle of liquid Hank vaguely recognized. "A dose of Schlaftrunk should do it."

"Double dose. This is a Lycanthrope," Monroe corrected emphatically, but not condescendingly.

"How are we going to get that into them?" Hank queried warily as they prepared to leave.

Monroe fortunately had already thought of that.

"Crossbow ought to do it, assuming we have time to stop at the trailer?" That was directed at Nick who pushed back his sleeve to check his watch.

"We should, if we hurry."

Prompted by his comment, they scrambled, Rosalee pocketing the bottle before getting into the backseat of Hank's vehicle.

* * *

After stopping at the trailer to get a crossbow, they sped to the station, siren on to avoid traffic.

However, they didn't find Wu or Doyle. Instead someone else was waiting for them in the parking garage.

"Meisner," Nick greeted the unexpected visitor with mild trepidation. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to warn your sergeant that we think Black Claw is targeting him-but he isn't here."

Hank whipped toward him, alarms going off in his head. Wu had said he would wait for them, and he would have said if that was no longer possible.

"What are you talking about? Where is he?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Meisner replied honestly; he withdrew a sheet of paper from inside his jacket, unfolding it to reveal a photo of the man they'd interviewed hours previously. "But I know this man is responsible."

"You know who that is?" Nick exclaimed, sounding less surprised and more like he wanted Meisner to tell him.

And Meisner did.

"His name is Matteo Divala, and he's been on our Black Claw watchlist for several months. We think he's their 'beast-tamer': he's in charge of the monster Black Claw is rumoured to use for special execution. We just recently received confirmation that he's in the city-and if he's here, then so is the monster," he briefed them gravely.

"Could the monster be a Lycanthrope?" Nick posited, his discomfiture visibly deepening. Hank's hackles were rising, too. His suspicions had been correct: this really was about targeting Wu.

"Yes, that would fit the bill," Meisner said after a pause, his grizzled features becoming darker as he turned to Nick. "You're positive that's what kind of Wesen you're dealing with?"

"Yes," Hank said. "We have to find Wu. He has no idea how to handle one; if we don't get to him before night falls, he's done."

"I can help with that," Meisner offered, pocketing the photograph and taking out an exact copy of the phone Chione had given the other recruits. "When each of our agents are given these phones, Chione implants a tracker onto their bodies, one that can't be blocked by any kind of technology-and that I can access from here."

Hank could add awed to his list of current emotions as Meisner tapped on the screen of his phone, bringing up a map with a blinking red dot on it; he didn't understand how that was possible. That was like magic and technology beyond anything he'd encountered.

"He's up in Forest Park. They probably took him there to stage his death to look like an animal attack."

"Let's go," Nick instructed without preamble, already returning to the car.

"I'll meet you there. You're definitely going to need some back up on this one," Meisner said, leaving no room for argument. No one was inclined to argue, anyways, as they had a feeling he was right-and there was no time for debate.

Without further ado, their group headed to Forest Park as fast as they could. They didn't even wait to check if Meisner had transportation-Hank assumed he did since he'd gotten to the precinct without assistance-too intent on getting to Wu.

Hank was tense at the steering wheel, his vision laser-centered on getting them to their destination. Everything else was secondary, including what he and Nick had been planning prior to this-that was going to have wait until after Wu was safe.

Meisner somehow beat them to the forest, and they caught sight of him by a copse of trees, hefting an unfamiliar weapon in his gloved hands with an unsettling frown.

"He hasn't moved from the center of the wood," he informed them as soon as they joined him.

"Shit," Hank swore as he realized what that meant, unholstering his gun and undoing the safety. Wu could be unconscious, or at the very least, tied up which meant he would have no way of defending himself against the Lycanthrope. They were going to have to do that for him. "Where exactly is he?"

"About a mile and a half from here by the creek," Meisner pinpointed Wu's location after examining the map on his phone and performing a mental calculation.

"Okay," Nick also drew his gun, bringing it at the ready. "Monroe, you go first; wait until the thing transforms and then see if you can tranq it. If you can't, though, Hank or I will have to shoot it."

Honestly, Hank was all for just shooting the creature first and asking questions later; now they were certain the Lycanthrope was Black Claw, they wouldn't be killing an innocent person. They would be eliminating an assassin.

Monroe went along with Nick's plan, though, taking the crossbow out of its case and preparing it before they all went traipsing into the forest with Meisner in the front.

He lead them on a weaving path through the trees, the sole noise the wind through the leaves. It was getting to be quite chilly, making Hank glad he was wearing a jacket. He was also glad that Meisner was with them. He had to be better equipped for this than they were.

As the foliage became thicker and the light got scanter, another sound reached Hank's ears. A voice-the voice of the person they were searching for.

"So, you are Black Claw. What do you want with me?" he could just discern Wu's familiar tone demanding of someone, probably the person who'd taken him prisoner, a note of ill-disguised apprehension.

Meisner signaled to them to halt, and they obeyed, encircling the clearing so Hank was able to pick up a third noise-one he hadn't heard before, that was steadily growing louder. It sounded like growling.

Divala's voice responded.

"You're friends with the Grimm, and friends of the Grimm need to be taught a lesson," He was spitting rancour, sneering as he added, presumably not to Wu, "Go on, darling. Show this Kehrseite what we do to those who stand against us."

Hank could detect the moon rising above them-they all knew what that meant. That growling he'd started to hear was crescendoing, and now it was joined by what he thought was bones snapping. and then, there was an ominous howl.

The Lycanthrope was transforming.

Meisner and Monroe sprung into action, as Nick had planned, launching into the clearing with weapons held out in front of them. Hank and Nick were close behind, and Hank was stunned by what they stumbled into.

Wu was tied to a tree trunk, wrists and ankles bound together. Divala was to his left, twirling what had to be his gun in his still human hands.

The worst sight of all, however, was the beast manifesting into being by Divala's side.

It stood upright like a man, but it definitely wasn't a man. It wore woman's clothes that hung in tatters on its hunched form, exposing gnarled limbs and shaggy, matted fur that spread all the way to its face. And its face, its face was twisted, mouth pulled back to bare curved, obscenely large and sharp teeth in a snarl that was clearly aimed right at Wu as it-she-lunged.

It was the woman.

"Stop!" Nick shouted, bursting into the fray and blocking Wu from the advance, Monroe by his side, directing the crossbow at the approaching creature. It was coming too fast, though, so fast that Nick couldn't even get it with his gun.

Meisner didn't bother with a warning, charging at the monster and tackling it to the forest floor, where he plunged his weapon into its sternum. It howled in pain, prompting Divala to point Wu's gun at him, ready to fire.

"Watch out!" Nick called to Meisner, shifting and putting a bullet it in Divala's arm, just before Meisner and the Lycanthrope rolled beyond its range.

Monroe kept trying to get a shot at the Lycanthrope to get it off Meisner, while Hank went to help Nick who was now grappling with Divala-shooting him hadn't done much except make him angry. In his peripheral, he caught Rosalee going to free Wu.

Divala was a vicious fighter, though, and quickly encompassed all of his focus; when he woge'd, too, transforming into another Blutbad, the situation escalated. He lost Wu's gun in the struggle, but he still rather had the advantage.

"Burkhardt," he sneered disdainfully in a deeper voice than before. "I'm glad you're here to see this. See what your foolish attempts to mediate between our kind and the humans has gotten you. We are going to make you suffer."

Hank saw the distress flash across Nick's features at the threat, and he leapt to his defense, eyes blazing.

"No, you won't. You failed to kill our friend, and I will make sure you keep failing," he retorted vehemently, cocking his gun and, without waiting for Divala's comeback, put two slugs in his chest.

The Blutbad bucked, collapsing onto the dirt, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Yet, as he died, he smirked and imparted one final provocation.

"Your friend can't stop my Lycanthrope. She will kill all of you."

Like she'd been bolstered by his confidence, the Lycanthrope suddenly threw Meisner off and, in a blur, knocked Wu off his feet, claws unsheathing and again going for his throat.

"Wu!' Hank yelled, rushing over to save him. Once more, though, the Lycanthrope was moving too fast to hit, and Wu was in the way, retreating from its slashing claws, but sooner or later one was going to make contact.

"Use this!" Meisner shouted as he struggled to stand, tossing his weapon to Nick-who caught it from the beast's left. "Aim it at her neck, and pull the lever at the back!"

Nick obeyed without question, getting in between Wu and his assailant and yanking the lever he felt on the the contraption's rear once he got it level with the Lycanthrope's neck.

Some kind of projectile shot from the opposite end, that must have possessed a blade because it sliced clean through the Lycanthrope's carotid artery, causing it-she-to crumple at Wu's feet next to Divala.


	15. Chapter 15

For a second, no one said a word: Wu froze on the ground, panting and gaping at the spot where his would-be killer had fallen. Monroe went to go check on his wife, while Meisner dusted himself off.

"Well, this is a mess," Nick was the one to break the silence, holstering his gun with a shake of his head.

Hank pursed his lips, unable to dispute the gloomy observation. They had two more bodies on their hands, one of which, he realized, still appeared caught halfway between woman and a wolf-an extremely deformed wolf.

Meisner strode up to the Grimm, holding out his hand for the weapon in exchange for a solution.

"We can take care of the Lycanthrope, ensure this merely looks like your witness turned on you-if that suits."

Nick returned the weapon to him, asking Hank and Wu a silent question over his head:was he cool with that? There was some doubt about whether they could make it work. Divala had been cooperative when they'd brought him in; he hadn't acted like the type who would abruptly turn violent against the police without being accused of something.

Then again, it had been just that-an act. His accommodating attitude with their questioning and helping them get in touch with his girlfriend had all been a lie to lure them into a trap. They could put that in their report-they just had to omit the part about the woman turning into a werewolf.

Both his fellow lawmen gave their consent without speaking, so Nick accepted.

"That would be helpful, thanks," he said courteously. "It'll save us having to explain the Lycanthrope and how we killed it."

"What is that thing, anyways?" Monroe interjected, seemingly powerless to contain his curiosity.

Meisner didn't indulge him, however, altering his phone's screen again and lifting it to his ear. "Give me an hour, then call it in."

Nick could live with that-it wasn't the first time they'd delayed calling in an incident to maintain the secrecy of the Wesen world-and they left Meisner to it, electing to take Monroe and Rosalee home in the mean time. Their place seemed like a better setting to have the conversation he and Hank wanted to have with their friends.

Monroe was speculating about that weapon Nick had killed the Lycanthrope with to Rosalee, so he didn't notice that Nick and Hank's demeanours had altered since they left the forest. Nick could tell neither of them knew how to do this; they didn't usually keep secrets from the other people in the car, so having to admit to one was going to be a new experience. Nick had been trying to find the words earlier, but as usual, Wesen had interfered.

He knew Hank wasn't the greatest with words-the elder detective had admitted that himself-so it was really on him. It would have been more ideal perhaps to do this the next day after they'd had a chance to decompress from everything, but Nick thought it was more practical to just rip off the band-aid.

He supposed he could just say more less what he had to Trubel: that his relationship with Juliette hadn't been working since she came along, and when he and Hank had gone to get her from Philadelphia, that had helped show him who he should really be with. And yes, it was kind of mean, not telling Juliette about it, but he'd wanted to protect Hank more than he wanted to protect her.

Yeah, that was what he would tell them, Nick decided. Hank might-should-add something somewhere, but in essence, that would be what he would tell Monroe, Rosalee and Wu.

When they entered their friends' driveway, Monroe was still talking, but Hank looked at Nick as he dropped his hands from the steering wheel.

"You still want to do this?" he asked in an undertone.

Nick inhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself. this was a big step; revealing his and Hank's relationship was going to change a lot of things-but he was ready.

"I do," he replied resolutely, allowing a fleeting smile to cross his lips as Hank touched his arm and taking strength from the contact. They didn't worry about being seen anymore since they were about to reveal what was going on, anyways.

Naturally, Monroe and Rosalee were the first up to the door, having to unlock it for everyone, and Nick and Hank went next, still holding on to each other, with Wu bringing up the rear.

"Anyone want anything?" the Blutbad asked once they'd passed the threshold to face his guests.

Nick halted in the sitting room, seeing Rosalee catch sight of Hank's fingers on his forearm and he knew it was time to just bite the bullet.

"Hank and I have something we have to tell you guys," he announced after an encouraging glance from his partner, steeling himself to look up at each of his friends in turn.

He saw the mood in the room become more anticipatory, their companions frowning at him with a mix of interest and concern.

"Is everything okay? I mean, obviously, it's not in the larger sense, but with you two? What's going on?" Monroe questioned in his typically overexcited manner. That did something to lessen Nick's nervousness-not much, but a little.

He felt Hank squeeze his arm and he finally came out with it.

"We thought you should know that we're, uh, we're together."

Unsurprisingly, no one was immediately forthcoming with a response. He could tell the others were processing, discerning what he really meant by that.

"You mean, like, together together? As in you're dating, and you're a couple?" Monroe spoke first, searching for clarification.

The corners of Hank's mouth twitched.

"Well, we haven't really been on a date, but, yeah. Pretty much," the elder detective affirmed with a trace of humour.

Monroe and Rosalee actually didn't appear that thrown, much like Trubel hadn't been; apparently, they really hadn't fooled many people. Except Wu, who, in contrast, was wide-eyed like he couldn't believe it.

"Since when?" he probed, shock clear in his tone.

"Since we got back from Philadelphia," Nick supplied honestly, knowing that the hard part wasn't over yet.

"Ah, " Monroe made a sound of realization, as if they'd just provided the missing piece to a puzzle he'd been putting together. "So, that's what's been up lately. We thought we could sense something different about you two."

Rosalee, though, didn't look all that pleased, and she raised the difficult question.

"What about Juliette?"

The younger detective paused, licking his lips. Now they got to it.

"She doesn't know," he admitted guiltily, fidgeting under Rosalee's enquiring gaze. He took another breath. "We've been having problems, though, ever since Trubel showed up. She wasn't that cool with her staying with us at first, and I understood why; but when Hank and I took Trubel on cases with us, he was just a lot better about it than Juliette was. And then when Adalind took my Grimm powers, Hank was there for me in a way that Juliette wasn't and, I don't know, it brought up things that i knew i shouldn't have been feeling while I was still with her. But I couldn't help it, and when we were in Philadelphia, it all just kind of came to a head. Then Black Claw showed up, and I thought it would be safer for Hank if we kept our relationship secret."

"So, you've been lying to her all this time?" Rosalee surmised, disapproval etched into her features.

"Yeah," Nick said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling properly chastened. He didn't feel good about lying to Juliette, but he wouldn't feel good if something happened to Hank, either. "I know it's not honourable of me, but I don't want Black Claw knowing that Hank's more to me than just my partner-not yet. But once I can subvert whatever they might do to him, I will tell Juliette everything."

There was another extended silence, while he saw the others contemplate his explanation. He hoped it was enough for them to understand why this need to be kept quiet; besides the danger it would put Hank in, it wouldn't be right if someone else told Juliette. 

He felt Hank grip him tighter while they both waited with baited breath for the verdict.

"Okay," Rosalee shot them a censuring glance before acquiescing-albeit rather begrudgingly. "We won't say anything, either; but you really should tell her soon. It's going to be really bad for all of us if she finds out some other way."

Nick exhaled sharply in relief, and nodded.

"I know, and I will. I promise."

Another beat passed, then Wu raised his palms as if in surrender.

"Hey, I'm cool with it-as long as this doesn't make me the third wheel," he said, breaking the tension and prompting all of them to laugh faintly.

"Sorry to tell you this, Wu, but I think you already were," Hank ribbed him, tossing him a cheeky smile.

The rest of them chuckled again, while Wu shot Hank a dry look.

"Thanks, Hank. Really. Nice to be appreciated."

Nick's mood was definitely much lighter after that. He was glad to know that he was right, that he could trust these people with his secret-and that he and Hank didn't have to hide around them anymore. He knew it was asking a lot for them to lie to Juliette for him, and the fact that they'd agreed just went to show what great friends they were.

As per usual, the momentary lull was interrupted by Nick's phone ringing; but when Nick went to answer it, he discovered it wasn't his personal cell-it was his HW one, notifying him that he had a message.

It took a second for him to recall how to read it once he scanned his fingerprint, but once he did, he found it was from Meisner.

"We can close this case now," he informed Hank and Wu, darting a glance at Monroe and Rosalee. The message said HW had taken the Lycanthrope and cleaned the scene of all traces of his presence; he'd left Divala's body because he'd been killed by Nick's police-issued gun so that would need to be answered for, but everything unexplainable had been wiped.

They'd done what they'd come here for, so Hank nodded.

"All right. I guess that means we gotta go," he concluded, and the two of them started heading for the exit, Wu bidding Monroe and Rosalee goodnight before following suit; they paused at the door, too, giving a parting statement of their own. "Thanks for being cool about this, you guys, It means a lot."

"It really does," Nick added sincerely. "I know this puts you in an awkward position, and I really appreciate you having my-our-back here."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Or rather, maybe you should worry about it, but don't worry about us. We know you don't want to hurt anyone and we don't want to see Hank hurt, either," Monroe dismissed his gratitude, waving his hands at them. "You guys go take care of what you need to take care. We'll stay quiet."

* * *

With that reassurance, the police were able to leave and fill out their reports on the case. Obviously, they wouldn't be putting in all the specifics, but it still left them a lot to write down.

And Nick and Hank didn't even have all the facts.

"Doyle-or Divala, I guess-said we were going to have to pick up his girlfriend, but as soon as I got off the phone with you, he turned," Wu explained how he was captured the next morning at the station, standing awkwardly by Hank's desk. "His girlfriend was already there, and she came at me with some kind of rope thing that must have had a sedative or something in it because I couldn't move my arms to stop them from piling me into a van or taking my gun or my phone. Which reminds me: how did you guys find me without tracking my phone or car?"

"Meisner," Nick answered truthfully, lifting his fingers from the keyboard of his computer and meeting Wu's eyes. "Supposedly, when we were given our HW phones, Chione implanted some sort of tracker on all of us that can't be blocked and that only they can access. He was able to use that to trace where they took you."

"And he brought the thing that killed the Lycanthrope," Wu finished, shaking his head in astonishment of what Meisner had done for him. He pretty much owed him his life.

Nick rolled his lips under, raising his shoulders without further comment.

"I can't believe that was what they sent after me. I mean, I can understand wanting me dead, but to use that creature? That was a little extreme."

"Well, Meisner said it was what Black Claw used for those they really want to make an example out of," Hank mused, deceptively lackadaisical as he added, "And you heard what Divala said: they wanted to send a message about being Nick's friend and crossing them."

Wu huffed, while Nick clenched his jaw, equally tense and exasperated. Black Claw was taking this to a whole new level: Nick couldn't let this continue.

"Well, I think _they_ need to be taught a lesson about messing with my friends," the Grimm carried on his train of thought aloud, a steely gleam entering his eyes. Thus far, he and the others had only been reacting to Black Claw's endeavours, defending from their attacks. That wasn't the right way to be doing this; they, and Hadrian Wall should be going on the offensive.

Wu switched his gaze to Hank, who Nick felt watching him warily.

"What are you thinking?" his partner queried.

Nick wasn't immediately forthcoming with an answer, his mind going in two different directions. First, he wanted to mount his own assault on Black Claw to put the brakes on their plans for Portland-and his loved ones-before they started. And second, he was thinking about his mom. He hadn't expected an instant reply to his email, and it had only been about twenty-four hours, but considering the urgency, her silence was putting him increasingly on edge. She would be a great asset to have for whatever their strike against Black Claw might entail; plus, of course, he wanted to know she was okay, that their enemies hadn't gotten to her yet.

"I'm thinking we should go talk to Meisner again," he finally pronounced after a pregnant pause, tapping a pen restlessly on the surface of his desk. "Maybe see what else HW's got on Black Claw's agents here and see if it can help us stop what they're going to do with the election."

He saw Hank and Wu weighing his suggestion,not hiding their hesitation-especially Wu, who he'd filled in about his mission prior to collecting Divala the previous afternoon.  
that said, something-perhaps how Black Claw had gone after him, perhaps the fact that the election wasn't that far off-convinced him of the merits of Nick's strategy, for eventually he and Hank both conceded.

Once more as if prompted by their discussion, the sound of Nick's HW phone buzzing punctuated the air.

Hank sat forward at seeing him withdraw it and scan his fingerprint.

"What is it?" he enquired, steering his chair next to Nick's to peer over his shoulder.

Nick tapped through the device to access the messaging function and opened the text.

"It's from Chavez," he said after reading the text, brows drawing low. It was an odd message in that it perfectly related to what they'd just been talking about. "She wants to meet, but at a different address than we've been going to."

"Where?" Wu piped up, bemused.

"A place up in Astoria," Nick informed them, not comprehending why they were being summoned all the way over there. 

His companions shared his consternation.

"You want to make that drive alone?"Hank said, sounding as though he didn't like that notion at all.

"No," Nick declared, knowing exactly what would change his mind. "But she wants to see all of us."

"Well, all right, then,"Hank pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his jacket from where it had been draped over the back of his chair and replacing it over his shoulders.

Nick and Wu mimicked him and exited the station-after notifying Renard of what they were doing. Nick still wasn't entirely comfortable telling him anything, but since he was their alibi, it was their only option.

They had to use a GPS to map the new address since it was an unfamiliar area and it was quite the journey, taking them just over 2 hours. Upon reaching the location, they discovered another warehouse-like building, similar to what Black Claw had dubbed 'the Factory', only this one seemed to have recently been repurposed-presumably by HW  
Adding fuel to that assumption was the fact that both Chavez and Meisner were outside waiting for them-and Trubel arrived soon after they did, climbing out of a car driven by another agent Nick didn't know.

"What's this about?" the Grimm said by way of a greeting, looking from her to Chavez and Meisner, noticing that the latter didn't look that comfortable with the proceedings.

Meisner's jaw clenched, and his tone was short as he filled Nick in.

"The Royal family have contacted us. They're proposing an alliance against Black Claw."

Nick's eyebrows contracted and he didn't have to look to know that his companions wore similar expressions.

"What?" he exclaimed, askance. That was pretty much the last thing he'd expected to hear.

The German man let out a sharp breath through his nose, appearing to have to contain his ire at the matter.

"Supposedly, they don't agree with Black Claw's edicts and object to the people they would put in charge of the new world they're building. They are sending a representative to negotiate the particulars."

Scepticism instantly took over Nick; he found that extremely hard to believe. From his experiences and everything he'd heard, the Royals were practically mirrors of Black Claw and their methods were right out of the Royals' handbook.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? They could just be trying to get you to reveal our plans to take back to Black Claw and join them, if they haven't already," Nick voiced his suspicions, planting his hands on his hips.

Chavez tilted her chin,a s if she'd already thought of that.

"That's why we're meeting here instead of at our main headquarters, and why Chione isn't here. We're not trusting them with any of our major secrets until they give us an implicit reason to."

Although that explained the strange location for this event, it didn't explain why Trubel was here if they were trying to play things close to the vest.

"Why did you bring Trubel, then? The Royals don't know about her yet, and there's a reason we don't want them to."

"We know." Again, HW's leader assuaged his concern. "But the fact that they also don't know what she looks like means they won't know who she is even if they see her and she'll be able to keep a covert eye on them for us. I'd say that gives us an advantage, wouldn't you."

Comprehension dawned on Nick at that statement. That was a good play, he had to admit, and not one he would have seen coming.

Meisner checked his watch, his expression darkening further as he read the time.

"We should get inside. Their envoy should be here soon," he announced, turning on his heel and making for the entrance of the facility.

It occurred to Nick as he and Hank followed, with Trubel at their heels, that this would be the first time he'd actually met one of the Royal family. He'd seen Renard's cousin, Viktor at the precinct that one time, and Renard's brother, Eric had kidnapped him, but he'd never actually spoken to either of them. Considering everything they'd put him through, he thought that was rather rude.

Now, however, it seemed that was going to be remedied-and while he wasn't exactly happy, he was interested in how they thought they were going to convince anyone they weren't with Black Claw.

There was no elevator to go down inside the warehouse, merely a single corridor partitioned by what seemed to be a solid wall-until Meisner layed his palm on the surface and a beam of light formed, tracing the length of his hand before flashing green. that prompted the wall to separate into a door.

The chamber beyond was much emptier than any within the main headquarters, containing only a single computer in the corner and a few metal chairs scattered around the perimeter. As they ventured inside, the agent who'd come with Trubel positioned herself by the opening, inputting a code on the keypad next to it that caused it to remain ajar.

They didn't have to wait long for their visitor ; while they were getting settled, the camera feed playing behind them showed a car pulling up outside. Actually it was more like a limo, and the driver exited to open the back door for his passenger.

It wasn't one of the Royals Nick knew by sight. this man was taller than Viktor, and Nick, significantly enough that Nick would have to crane his neck to meet his gaze. His cropped dirty blonde hair was slicked back from his forehead, permitting a clear view of his sculpted, sun-kissed features.

Though he was dressed rather casually in jeans and a red leather jacket, Nick could tell this wasn't merely an agent of the family: this was one of their members. It was all in his bearing and the distinctly aristocratic quality of his face.

Chavez went to meet him at the entrance to the chamber, her face arranged into a studiedly neutral expression.

"I presume you're the leader of this organization?"the man-prince?-greeted her, cocking a single immaculate brow in her direction.

"I am," Chavez confirmed smoothly, appearing not at all intimidated by how he towered over her. "Agent Chavez."

"I am Prince Kenneth," Nick heard the man introduce himself in a thick, superior Austrian accent. "My family has chosen me to be the liaison between our two groups."

"Welcome," Chavez beckoned him to accompany her into the chamber, where their other members were. "This is Theresa, and I think you know Meisner and Detective Burkhardt?"

Nick glimpsed the tick in Meisner's cheek as Kenneth passed over him to focus on the Grimm.

"Nicholas Burkhardt," he declared, recognition crossing his face as he raked his eyes over Nick from head to foot. "So, you're the Grimm that's been giving my family so much trouble these last few years. I have to say, you're not what I was expecting."

Nick wasn't sure if that was an insult or a compliment, but he chose to reserve judgement. It wasn't worth opening hostilities so early.

"Well, I wasn't expecting your family to be on our side of this war," he couldn't refrain from retorting, however. "Actually, I thought you would be on Black Claw's, given that you both want dominion over all Wesen and kill any who don't support you."

Despite the provocation, Kenneth's bow-shaped mouth curved in a slow, almost knowing smile.

"Yes, well, while we may share motivations, they would put their own leaders in charge if they won, and my family does not bow to anyone else. That is why we want them defeated; we don't want our authority stolen."

"And what makes you think we'd accept your help after everything you've done?" Meisner interjected, apparently not sharing Nick's thought of reserving hostility. Nick couldn't fault him: this had to be just as hard for Meisner as it was for him, since Meisner had been a member of the Resistance, actively fighting against the Royals' tyranny for the last several years. "Maybe we should let Black Claw overthrow you before we take them down; it would save us all a lot more pain."

Kenneth's attention shifted over to him, his smile dissipating into a-only marginally-more serious expression-but not apologetic or remorseful.

" _Herr_ Meisner, I knew coming here and persuading you to work with us wouldn't be easy. I know what a prominent figure you were in the Resistance; but for once, our interests are aligned. And, if we can put aside our differences and accomplish this victory, we are willing to negotiate for the freedoms of those you fight for."

Neither Nick nor Meisner blinked, rather unmoved by his speech. Kenneth didn't give up, however.  
"Perhaps this will help sway you," he attempted, reaching inside his jacket and withdrawing two small brass objects. Nick gave a sharp intake of breath: it was the other two keys to the treasure they'd all been after, the other pieces that went with the one they'd been trying to steal from Nick for years.

"You're giving those to us?" the Grimm quipped dubiously.

Kenneth extended his hand to drop the keys into Nick's.

"As a gesture of good faith, and to reassure you that we won't be coming after you anymore," he elucidated, offering Nick that placating smile again as Nick took the keys from him. He turned back to Meisner and Chavez. "We need each other. You cannot deny that."

Nick turned the keys over in his palm, marveling at how receiving something so minuscule could be so momentous. Yet, he could tell it wasn't enough for the former Resistance member; Meisner didn't even seem curious about the items, nor was he impressed by the gesture.

But it was Nick that Chavez looked at to aid in her decision. She must have been aware of Nick's history with the Royals, and she was clearly asking if he thought they could trust them, even after all the sins they'd committed-against practically everyone of note in the room.

Nick had once said he'd never work with the Family, but these were vastly different circumstances. They were also probably more suited to the sort of underhanded, radical measures required to defeat Black Claw than Nick was, and they could probably anticipate Black Claw's moves better than HW could, given how similar they were. 

This wasn't just his decision, though.

He tore his stare from the keys, searching his friends' faces for their thoughts. Beside him, hank had his arms crossed, his features rife with mistrust. He'd been privy to nearly as many of the Royals' sins as Nick had: their Verrat agents had beaten him half to death once, and he'd been deeply involved in the fight for Adalind's child. Nick doubted he would be too keen on allying with them; but he also knew that if Nick went along with it, he would, too.

That would be how Trubel-and Wu would vote as well, now that he thought about it. They hadn't encountered the Royals directly as the others had, but they'd heard what they were capable of from Nick; if he was willing to put it aside, they would defer to him. The female Grimm, though, did look inclined to accept, and she had been more involved with HW as of late, so if she thought they needed the help, she was probably right.

That settled it, then, Nick observed silently, communicating to Chavez that he was prepared to acquiesce.

Chavez took all of their silent opinions into account before giving her answer.

"Very well," she acceded, though with minimal enthusiasm. "We'll try it on a trial basis. However, give us even the slightest inkling that you're working for the other side, and you won't have to worry about Black Claw usurping your rule anymore."

Kenneth took the undisguised threat in stride, his grin remaining fixed in place as his eyes flicked back toward Nick.

"Wonderful. I have a feeling we're all going to be great friends."

Nick had to suppress the disconcerted prickle he felt at this new situation. This wasn't going to be easy-for any of them to get used to.

Even just talking civilly to one of the Royals was odd, to put it lightly. Kenneth was exactly what Nick presumed he would be: arrogant, condescending, self-important. Nick could tell he was attempting to be sympathetic, but it was, in Nick's opinion, barely successful.

Needless to say, his presence distracted Nick from what his original purpose for wanting to speak to his fellow agents. Hank brought it up for him, though, as soon as Kenneth had departed.

"Our enemies are getting closer. You know they tried to kill Wu yesterday." It wasn't a question; their second-in-command had been the one to warn them, after all.

"That means they're stepping up their efforts against me, and I have to do everything I can to stop them continuing to target the people I care about. We have to take the fight to them," Nick put in firmly.

Some of the rigidity seemed to vanish from Meisner's posture now the prince was no longer around, and he looked to give Nick's speech serious deliberation, as if he knew where Nick was coming from.

'He's right. Our strategies thus far have been mostly reacting to their attacks and merely taking what we can from them. We will have to alter our approach if we want to prevent what they have planned here."

Chavez pursed her lips thoughtfully, like she was weighing the merits of following that advice. Their missions were probably her idea, so he didn't know if she'd been willing to change her direction at this point.

"We will," she said, much to his shock a few seconds later, dusting off the front of her blazer. "I've been putting together an offensive for some time now that should give us a significant advantage over our enemies, and I suppose now is the time to put it into action. It will, however, require a particular brand of manpower." Her focus slid to Nick and Trubel. "That is, Grimm power."

Nick squared his shoulders, unruffled at being the one who would have to carry out this plan.

"Are you going to tell us what it is, or are we going to have to guess?" Trubel prodded when another moment passed and Chavez didn't elaborate.

This time, Chavez's attention centered wholly on Nick.

"I was hoping to have your mother's aid on this, but I suppose that isn't an option?"

Nick slumped slightly.

"She hasn't answered my email yet, but even so she could be miles away. I don't think she'd make it in time."

The female FBI agent took a soft breath.

"Well, then, you two will have to handle it on your own," she declared, again unexpectedly optimistic as she detailed her plan. "If Black Claw intends to do something to turn the upcoming election to their advantage, then you, detective, can investigate and pinpoint how so you, Theresa, can take care of it."

Neither of the Grimms had to think about the strategy before consenting to it: it was precisely what Nick was ruminating on, and it made the most sense, given their positions.

"That'll work," the man said. He had no reservations, because he wouldn't be the only one working the investigative side of things-as evidenced by how Hank gripped his hand again.

Chavez tilted her head toward him.

"Excellent. And I appreciate your understanding on the matter of our newest alliance. I realize this will be an adjustment-for more than one of us." Here, she glanced at Meisner, who averted his gaze, still clearly not happy with the arrangement. "But it is necessary."

Nick nodded as well, not commenting. There was nothing more to say on the subject.

Chavez's eyes returned to him, closing it with a final query. "Was there anything else you required?"

Nick glanced at Hank, and his partner shook his head.

"No. We're good."

That concluded their meeting, and they made to depart as well; but were waylaid by Trubel, who had something to say about their holding hands in front of everyone.

"I guess the cat's out of the bag?" she guessed, lifting a single thick black eyebrow.

Nick didn't have to ask to know what she was talking about.

"We told Wu, Monroe and Rosalee, and I'm going to tell Juliette soon. Once we thwart Black Claw's scheme for Portland, hopefully it'll mean they won't be watching us and everything can be out in the open."

Trubel's mouth twitched

"Glad I found another job and I won't be there for that conversation. What do you think she'll do?"

The other Grimm shrugged.  
"I don't know, but I'm sure it won't be pleasant. Especially once I tell her how long this has been going on," he stated in a darkly matter-of-fact tone. He knew Juliette would be upset to hear he'd been cheating on her for nearly two weeks, and she would have every right to be; he expected she would kick him out, and that was why he'd gradually, subtly been moving possessions to Hank's over the past few days.

Trubel sighed, then tried to give a comforting pat on the arm.

"Well, I can't say it'll be okay-because it probably won't be-but whatever she says, you know I'm on your side. Juliette's been great to me, but I know that's only because of you."  
Nick smiled. He hadn't thought Trubel would choose Juliette over him if they split, but it was nice to hear her say it aloud. He wouldn't have room for her to continue to stay with him if Juliette kicked him out, but Hadrian's Wall was looking into procuring her an apartment of her own; they'd already helped her acquire her job so she would be well taken care of.

"Thanks," he told her.

Trubel nodded.

"Well, I should take off. They want me on another mission out of town."

Nick's eyebrows rose a fraction.

"Oh, yeah? Where are they sending you?"

"I don't know yet," the female Grimm said, giving a shrug of her own. " They say I won't know where I'm going or what I'm doing until I get there. It's a little rough, but it's effective; I guess so no one will be able to force me to give up the details of my assignment if I get captured."

The prospect of Trubel being captured altered Nick's mood.

"That's not going to happen-not if I have anything to say about it," he vowed vehemently, giving her a fierce look. 

She didn't thank him-she didn't have to. Instead, she merely checked her phone, then shot him an apologetic glance.

"I have to go back to the main headquarters. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Have a good night, guys," she called her farewell to the other two policemen, both of whom jerked their chins at her in response.

"Night, Trubel. It was good to see you. Be safe," the elder detective called back.

Once she was gone, they resumed leaving as well. 

Right as they were walking outside, Nick's personal phone went off with an email notification. He had two messages: one was a campaign ad, reminding him to 'vote Andrew Dixon for mayor'-and the other was from his mother.

Nick halted in his tracks, trepidation suddenly filling him at what she might have written. As he'd told Chavez, he hadn't thought she'd write him back so soon-if ever.

His heart was pounding as he tapped on the message to open it and started to read.

_'N-_  
_Aware of BC. Have come across them already and you're right-fighting alone not smart. Talk more when back._  
_-M_  
_PS. Sorry to hear about you and J."_

The male Grimm gave another heavy intake of breath as those words sunk in. His mom was coming back to Portland-and the Royals were here.

This situation had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnd the set up for the scene I'm really looking forward to write has been done. also now everyone knows about griffhardt except Juliette ooh. hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.  
> also want to give a shout out to escapismandsharpobjects for being my most consistent reviewer. your comments make me very happy so thank you very much.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this went in quite the interesting direction if i do say so myself  
> not much plot here just some progression of the griffhardt relationship and a little smut so warning for that(i hope the smut actually ended up well-written because it's so not the type of smut i usually write)

"Hey," Hank's voice punctuated his inner turmoil as his partner joined him outside, peering over his shoulder. "Bad news?"

"Yes and no," Nick answered truthfully, lifting his gaze from his phone screen with another quiet sigh. "My mom finally answered my email. She's coming back."

Hank arched his eyebrows.

"She agreed to join HW?"

Nick shook his head quickly.

"No, not yet. But she knows about Black Claw; she says she's willing to talk about it when she returns."

"Oh. Well, that's something at least, right?" his partner offered optimistically; but Nick couldn't help but look on the downside.

"Yeah, but now that the Royals are involved, she might not stick around."

Hank's expression dimmed as he recognized why Nick wasn't entirely enthusiastic about his mother's return. He would be happy to see her again, but their reunion was unlikely to be all that joyous-or extended-once she discovered the Royals were there.

"Are you gonna warn her?" the elder wondered.

Nick bit his lip, dropping his eyes to his cell once more. 

"I think I have to." He opened a new message and began to type, letting his mother know about the change in circumstances-that he was now working with her, their prior nemeses.

He felt Hank sidle up and replace his hand on his shoulder as he wrote the email and sent it, hoping that his mom would get it before she arrived so she wouldn't be blindsided by the Royals' presence. He didn't know if she would still come if she did, though; she still had the child with her, so she might just turn around and go back into hiding.

"She'd still help fight even if she wasn't here, right?Even if she doesn't officially become part of HW?"Hank surmised, glancing at Nick out of the corner of his eye, again attempting to be positive.

This time, it worked; that was the one thing Nick was certain of.

"In her own way, yeah, I'm sure she would." He paused, swallowing. "But I'd still feel better if I knew she wasn't alone."

Hank didn't say anything, then, just rubbed his arm comfortingly. He knew why Nick would prefer to have his mom close; he also knew that, besides give her all the information he had to help her make that decision, there was nothing more Nick could do.

"Come on," he said suddenly, tugging Nick closer and steering them both toward the car, where Wu had now beat them. "We've wrapped up everything that happened last night; we can drop Wu back off at the precinct, then grab something to eat-just us."

Nick looked up at him, startled by the abrupt switch of topic.

"You mean like a date?" he quipped, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly.

Hank chuckled.

"Maybe," he shrugged teasingly, and, despite the seriousness of their previous discussion, Nick felt something like excitement at the prospect of going on an actual date with Hank. It would actually be the perfect thing to help take his mind off his worries about his mom-and the latest mission they were supposed to accomplish.

"Okay," he accepted, allowing Hank to lead him back to his vehicle.

* * *

He felt Wu watching them as they drove back to the station. He hadn't heard their plans, but he didn't question it when they didn't follow him inside.

"We'll come up with a game plan tomorrow morning to decide how we're going to do this investigation?" Nick suggested by way of a farewell.

The sergeant inclined his head.

"Fresh brains in the morning," he asserted Nick's reasoning before bidding them both goodnight as well. "You two be careful."

"We always are," Hank assured him with a brief grin. With that, Wu turned to head into the building while Nick and his partner re-entered the car for a third time.

Hank didn't take them to any of the places they'd usually go to eat; to Nick's astonishment, he drove to a real, sit-down restaurant-one that looked even rather fancy.

"This is where you want to eat?" he asked, eyebrows flying into his hairline.

Hank shifted in his seat as he parked and shut off the engine.

"Well, I thought I'd take you somewhere nice since we haven't had a chance to do much yet," he replied, not quite meeting Nick's stare. If Nick didn't know better, he'd swear Hank was nervous.

Nick's smile widened, and he felt a rush of warmth for the other man. Not that he ever thought Hank would be a terrible boyfriend or something, but that was really sweet-and not what he was expecting at this point in time. Just saying thank you didn't seem adequate, so once he removed his seatbelt, he leaned over in his seat and tugged Hank's head down to press their lips together.

It felt great to be able to do this out in public-or semipublic anyways-especially once Hank responded, fingers curling around Nick's neck. the Grimm's pulse increased, heat spreading all the way from his cheeks to his toes.

Moreover, the novelty of kissing Hank still hadn't worn off, not even after the multiple stolen instances together lately; they hadn't done much yet, but they'd still made time for this.

As he generally did, Nick lost himself to the sensation of Hank's mouth caressing his, Hank's solid form pressing him into the leather of his seat and the sound of Hank's heavy breathing so close. All the fantasies he'd had since first developing feelings for Hank didn't even compare to the reality; from that first afternoon on his couch, it just kept getting better and getting harder and harder to stop.

  
He arched, heart skipping a beat when Hank's palm skimmed down his chest, coming to halt at the border between clothes. He didn't want to stop, but he had to; they were in a restaurant parking lot, after all-and besides, he was still technically with Juliette. Although he wasn't in love with her anymore, he didn't want to go too far while that was still a thing.

Though what he really wanted was to encourage Hank to keep going, instead he forced himself to pull away. However, he was unable to refrain from lingering on Hank's lips momentarily as he caught his breath again.

"Hungry?" Hank queried, forehead bumping Nick's, and Nick noticed that his face looked faintly pink, and his voice was rather hoarse. Clearly, he wasn't the only one extremely affected by what had just occurred.

"Starved," he said, grudgingly nudging Hank's hand from his jaw.

Their doors opened in sync, and they traipsed side-by-side into the restaurant. Fortunately, the place wasn't that crowded-perhaps because of the late hour-therefore, they were able to acquire a table fairly quickly, a booth a few feet from the kitchen.

As they sat across from each other, Nick couldn't help but feel a little awkward. The table was adorned with a silk cloth and ornate candles, and the seats weren't plastic or wooden; they were polished leather that didn't even make noise when he moved. That made it all feel a lot more intimate-like a real date, not a just spur of the moment one.

"Have you been here before? How'd you know about this place?" he queried, trying to make casual conversation to disguise his nervousness. 

Hank nodded.

"Came here once with ex-wife number two. Haven't been back in a while because of the bad memories; but I remember the food was pretty good. I think they even make your favourite."

That was even sweeter, that Hank not only remembered Nick's favourite food, but had been willing to return here in spite of the negative history simply because they featured it. Although that brought up another curious matter; had that just occurred to Hank tonight, or had he planned it ahead of time?

Like he knew what Nick was thinking, the elder detective's-uncharacteristic-blush deepened.

"I thought that, after yesterday, when I mentioned we'd never actually been a real date, whether you might want that. Now that more people know, and maybe once everyone does, you'd want to have a, you know, normal relationship. And I just want you to know that I can give you that, if you do," he admitted, fidgeting with the tablecloth, much to Nick's bemusement; he'd never seen Hank so unsure of himself before, and it evoked yet another flood of warmth in him.

"Hank," he said, reaching over the table to cover Hank's hand with his own and stilling it. "I don't even have a normal relationship with Juliette. Nothing about my-our life has been normal since I found out I'm a Grimm, and I'm okay with that. All I want from you is what you've been doing-and well, maybe a little more of what we were doing in the car, but with less sneaking around."

Hank gave a quiet huff of laughter at that last part.

"Yeah, less sneaking around would be nice," he agreed, interlocking their fingers with a small smile. "But I think I can manage the rest for now."

Nick tilted his head forward, also grinning and continuing to hold Hank's hand as he picked up his menu.

The rest of the meal passed in a pleasant haze as they talked about what they might want to eat-the place did, indeed, make Nick's favourite meal, and he ended up ordering it, while Hank went for a fancy sandwich. Their conversation stayed away from serious topics, such as Black Claw and their new alliance with the Royals, but the awkwardness didn't return. In fact, it felt totally comfortable and right, in a manner that being with Juliette hadn't in a long time. 

It probably shouldn't, he knew, while he was still living with her, while they were still technically together-or rather while she thought they were. But for the time he and Hank were out, he forgot about about that completely and lost track of the hour.

* * *

Nick knew as soon as Hank dropped him at Juliette's that something was off. Although it was nearly midnight, Juliette was still awake when he got inside, standing in their living room and clearly waiting for him.

He wasn't entirely shocked. Since Monroe, Rosalee, and Trubel had all ostensibly seen through his acting, he figured Juliette might've caught onto him and Hank, too. 

Even so, he didn't immediately confess, playing it cool until he knew that was really the case.

"Hey, why are you still up? Is everything okay?"

Juliette strode over to him, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to peel him apart.

"Where have you been all this time? I tried to call you earlier to see when you were getting home, but your phone was off, and when I called the precinct, the guy I talked to said you weren't there and he didn't know what you were doing. That tells me it wasn't your job, so what was it?"she demanded.

Far from looking guilty, Nick actually had to suppress a smile; he knew he shouldn't be, but he was sort of amused. He'd thought that Juliette would have figured out before now that he wasn't at work every time he came home late, and for her to catch him so simply-it was kind of weirdly funny.

"I was with Hank," he answered truthfully. He couldn't tell her everything he'd been doing, but he could tell her that much. "We were having some...personal time."

A moment passed before he saw Juliette realize what he meant by that, and her expression morphed into one of betrayal and scandilization.

"You and Hank?" she repeated, brows contracting. Her eyes widened when Nick nodded, no doubt confirming her worst assumption. "How long?"

"We kissed when we were in Philadelphia," Nick admitted bluntly. "But i'd been having feelings for him a while before that-since around the time of Monroe and Rosalee's wedding."

"And you, neither of you, ever thought to tell me? Nick that was more than two weeks ago!" Juliette exclaimed accusingly, furious.

Nick couldn't blame her; this was precisely the reaction he'd predicted she would have. He was sorry that she was hurt, and he wanted to explain to her why he hadn't told her; but it was safer for her if he didn't. So, he merely gave an unapologetic shrug.

"I'm telling you now."

Juliette scoffed angrily, not placated.

"After everything I did for you, all the hell I went through because of you, this is how you pay me back?!" She gave a bitter shake of her head, tears beginning to fill her eyes as she jabbed a finger at the door. "I can't believe this. I want you to go, Nick. I can't even look at you right now."

Nick had been ready for that, too, and he didn't put up a fight.

"That's fine. It's your house; if you want me to leave, I will. I've already started keeping stuff at Hank's-I'll get the rest now," he merely raised his palms before shamelessly ascending the stairs to retrieve the remainder of his stuff from what had been their bedroom.

He felt her glower after him as he made the climb; his calm response to her kicking him out probably only poured salt in the wound. She'd noticed Nick's possessions vanishing form the house, but she'd never imagined the reason was he'd started moving them to Hank's-his boyfriend's. How could she have been so blind?

As Nick intended, there wasn't much left for him to gather-just some clothes, his toothbrush and other things in the bathroom-and he was able to pack it all in about ten minutes.

He did pause once he'd finished, surveying the bedchamber one final time. He'd ready to leave, and he hadn't spent much time here lately; but this had still been his home for five years. So much had happened in this house-good and bad. It was where he'd first seen his mother after thinking she was dead for so long; it was where he'd brought Trubel the night they'd met,and where she'd cut off Weston Stewart's head after he'd shot Captain Renard, and it was where he'd been living when he found out he was a Grimm.

Yes, lots had happened since he'd moved in, but this would most likely be the last time he'd ever see it. There was nothing left for him here; now he and Juliette were over, this part of his life was, too.

He inhaled carefully, then hoisted his duffel off the bed over his shoulder and exited what was now Juliette's room.

Juliette was still standing where he'd left her when he returned downstairs, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and white features still obviously outraged. He knew nothing he could say would make a difference now, but he had to say something.

"For whatever it's worth, I know I could have handled this better. I never wanted to hurt you, and I understand if you can't forgive me or if you never want to see me again," He reached into his pocket and withdrew his key to the house, setting it down on the ledge by the door. "Thank you for everything. Goodbye."

His ex-girlfriend didn't comment on his parting speech, merely shooting him another disparaging glance and turning away.

He didn't try for more, and merely turned around also, leaving the house without another word. He'd been finished with Juliette for weeks; the only reason he'd stayed was because she'd been a convenient cover. However, he thought it was time he stopped using her like that, and as such, she wasn't anything to him anymore. 

He could move on-with Hank.

Speaking of, he imagined he should let Hank know they'd been caught and that he was coming to stay; he should notify Trubel too, so she would know that she couldn't stay at Juliette's anymore.

He texted both of them as he threw his bag into his car and climbed into the driver's seat, pulling onto the familiar road to Hank's. Trubel didn't respond as he was driving, but Hank obviously got his message because he opened the door for him before he even got in the driveway.

"Hey," he greeted Nick, reaching out to take his bag, then stepping aside to allow him entry. "Are you okay? How'd she find out?"

"It's the silliest thing, but she was looking for me while we were out. I guess she called the precinct and whoever she talked to told her I wasn't there," he related the tale as he followed Hank into his bedroom and dropped down heavily on the bed. It wasn't where he intended to go first but it was where Hank went after shutting the door behind him. "I could have lied, I suppose, but I figured she'd see right through it at this point, and to be honest, after tonight, I kind of wanted the deception to be over. I didn't tell her everything, but I told her we were together. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than continuing to string her along."

Hank dropped his bag into the closet then joined him, hands on his knees.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out, nudging Nick lightly. "Are you okay?"

Nick's mouth twitched ruefully. 

"Yeah, I am," he responded sincerely. Despite the fact that he'd just broken up with the woman he'd loved for nearly six years, the woman he'd wanted to marry, he wasn't upset. Even though Juliette was gone from his life, he wasn't alone; he had his friends, and Trubel-and most importantly, Hank. There was a problem now that he wasn't using Juliette as a cover anymore, but he was deliberately avoiding thinking about that. For now, he just wanted to enjoy being free. "I've wanted this since we kissed, and now it's finally happened. We don't have to sneak around any longer-everyone knows about us."

"That is good," Hank supplied, slinging an arm around Nick's waist and cradling him close like he'd done back in his car. But unlike earlier, there was no franticness, no pressure; there was no reason for them to rush, so Hank went slow, taking his time sliding their mouths together.

And Nick felt no guilt at reciprocating, sliding his palms over Hank's shoulders as he arched into him. It didn't feel like it had back at the restaurant, like it was some secret pleasure, something he had to hide; it felt a lot more real now. He could melt into it without thinking about Juliette because she was finally out of the picture-he could let it go as far as he wanted without worrying about it being wrong. 

That was why he allowed himself to fall back onto the bed and pull Hank down top of him, automatically parting his lips to invite him in.

Hank accepted the invitation without hesitation, and Nick groaned as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping against Nick's own and exploring his mouth more languidly than any time before. His fingers traced Nick's cheekbone and the line of his jaw and neck, also with deliberate slowness, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Nick's breath stuttered, his pulse already racing, more form the knowledge that he didn't have to stop any time soon. he could suck Hank's tongue in further, could let his hands wander Hank's chest ~~could do any of the things he'd fantasized about~~ and not have to be concerned about anyone except the other man. There was nothing stopping him-them-except their own judgement.

So he didn't withdraw, either when he felt Hank's palms running over his stomach and along the hem of his shirt.

"Nick," Hank's breath was warm, labored as it fanned out over his mouth, his touch hotter at the border between clothes, causing his hips to buck not entirely involuntarily. "What do you want?"

It was still a pretty loaded question, though. Now that he was free to do whatever he wanted, what was that?Hank's weight pressing him down into _his_ mattress was a heady sensation, drowning coherent thought in waves of heat, of arousal. He'd been content to just allow Hank to take this wherever _he_ wanted, but he knew that wasn't how it would work. Hank would never do anything he wasn't absolutely sure Nick was ready for.

At the moment, however, he was ready for pretty much anything-well, almost.

"I want," he started, panted, nails digging into Hank's back in an effort to ground himself to focus enough to form a coherent sentence. "I want...more. Not everything, but more."

his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to hold Hank's gaze, hoping to communicate what his lust-fogged brain couldn't manage to articulate.

Hank looked at him a moment, cupping his face tenderly and searching, before he seemed to understand. He moved his mouth to Nick's neck, pressing a tender kiss to the throbbing vein at the base and whispering, "Anywhere you want to stop, let me know" before reaching to pull his shirt over his head.

Nick raised his arms to help him get it off, gasping as Hank caressed his then bare skin, burning a path from his midsection to just below his navel and at the same time latching onto his shoulder.

" _Hank_ ," he moaned even more hoarsely, nails sinking deeper into the fabric of his shirt as his head thrashed back against the sheets. He'd never thought he'd enjoy being touched by another man-or anyone besides Juliette-so much, but, god, this felt amazing. Better than he'd imagined it would, and he'd actually imagined it a lot recently; but none of those fantasies compared to this. _Nothing_ compared to the reality.

His eyes squeezed shut at the feel of Hank's mouth ghosting over his collar bone in soft, barely there kisses that still left his skin tingling and his head spinning. He was being overwhelmed by pleasure, and Hank hadn't even gone that far south yet.

"Nick, look at me."His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest when Hank grazed his short, blunt nails across the over sensitized strip of flesh at the waist of his jeans, and the sound of his voice so low, so husky that it was practically unrecognizable and he couldn't help but obey the command.

Hank's eyes were hooded, dark with a mix of more emotion than he'd ever seen in them before and the sight of him removing his own shirt drained all the blood from Nick's mind. He couldn't keep his eyes from traveling over Hank's newly unclothed torso; he knew Hank was broader than him as well as being taller, but seeing it like this, _feeling_ it against his own flesh was an entirely different story. It almost distract him from Hank's hands sliding back up his neck to rest on either side of his face and pull him in again.

Almost.

When their mouths met a second time, it was more fervent, more passionate. Nick didn't protest at Hank instantly pushing his tongue back inside, just let him in, hooking a leg over his hip and opening to him even more than previously; the front of his jeans grew steadily tighter, grinding against the blatant bulge at the front of Hank's, the friction driving him to arch up more insistently.

Taking the hint, Hank reached back down between them, fingers unzipping Nick's fly shakily at first, but more assuredly once it became clear Nick wasn't going to pull away, the contact definitely not unnoticed by the rigid flesh beneath. Still, they were trembling ever so slightly when they wrapped around Nick's length, like he was afraid of hurting him.

All Nick could think-and say was " _Fuck_ ," and he clutched at Hank, rolling his hips forward to thrust encouragingly into Hank's grip. As Hank began to stroke him, he could feel Hank's own hardness digging into his thigh, and he returned the favour, working Hank's pants open as well.

He felt Hank jerk and his ministrations falter when Nick's fingers closed around his erection. " _Nick_ ," he uttered his partner's name once more, voice cracking so he sounded uncharacteristically wrecked, and that had to be one of the hottest things Nick had ever heard.

He wasn't entirely certain what to do next-though, judging from Hank's still shaky manner, he didn't really, either. Clearly, neither of them had been with other men before; but Hank was trying, so he decided to mirror him.

It must have worked because the next second, Hank was swearing, too, thrusting into Nick's fist. On both parts, since Nick already felt he wasn't going to last much longer, every stroke of Hank's thumb along his shaft bringing him nearer to the edge.

Words deserted both of them, lost in each other's mouths and hands and when Hank twisted his wrist in a particular way, Nick broke, spilling into Hank's hand, emitting a strangled groan as he did so.

His hand fell out of rhythm while the waves of his orgasm crashed into him, but it didn't seem to matter; Hank followed soon after anyways, muffling his exclamation by slumping over Nick and burying his face in the crook of the younger's neck.

Nick moved his hand to rest at Hank's back, holding him as both their breathing gradually evened out.He was honestly pretty content to just lie there and bask in the afterglow; that had been...unbelievable. He didn't think he could even find the correct words to describe how he felt about that.

He felt slightly regretful when Hank shifted off him-but only slightly because he kept his arm across Nick's middle and they remained partially pressed against one another.

"Was that too much?" the elder asked softly, once more scanning Nick's features for traces of regret.

Nick ensured he found none, and shook his head.

"No," he assured his partner with an affectionate smile, rolling half-onto his side and bumping his nose against Hank's. "That was perfect."

Hank returned the smile, exhaling in what Nick thought was relief. He evidently only cared about whether Nick was okay, and that made Nick feel even better about being with him. He really was the best.

"Good. I'm glad-and I'm glad you're here," he said sincerely, brushing another kiss to the curve of Nick's jaw. "Sleep tight."

Nick wriggled his pants the rest of the way off, then settled himself more comfortably onto his back-not difficult, given that he was in Hank's arms, right where he wanted to be. "You, too."

There was one more thing he wanted to say, but after their...activities, he was pretty much ready to drift off. Therefore, he decided to leave it for later-he had plenty of time now that they were living together.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue ripped from 5x10 and one scene from 5x16 so disclaimer for that tw for murder sorta i guess aaaand i don't think there's anything else that needs to be addressed  
> jfc this chapter is a monster it's over 10k words i think over 11k too

Like that morning in the hotel, it took Nick a second the next morning to recall where he was and whose arms he was in-and why. Once it sunk in, though, he didn't feel the slightest bit of regret;on the contrary, he felt rather content at seeing Hank lying next to him.

He exhaled soundlessly into the darkness, and merely lay there for a moment longer, just becoming accustomed to the new surroundings. He had noted the previous night that he hadn't spent much time in this part of Hank's house, and he hadn't had occasion to observe it. Now he did.

There was, predictably, not too much to look at. Hank's walls weren't decorated with art or anything fancy, and all the fixtures were rather simple. It was all very Hank-not that that was a bad thing.

His rumination was interrupted by the owner of the room stirring at his right, opening his eyes to meet Nick's.

"Morning," he greeted with a sleepy smile. "How'd you sleep?"

Nick rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he met Hank's gaze.

"Not too bad," he answered honestly, fingers ghosting along the line of Hank's stubbled jaw as he gestured around the room with his free hand. "This, strangely, didn't take much getting used to."

Hank laughed softly, leaning forward so their foreheads were almost touching.

"You're really cool with...everything?" he asked in a quieter, more serious tone, his expression becoming searching.

Nick closed what little distance remained between them and brushed his lips over Hank's reassuringly.

"Yes," he stated, cupping the elder's cheek. "I told you last night, I want to be with you-like this, for real. I have no regrets about leaving Juliette; she and I have been done for a long time now."

Hank peered at him an instant longer, fingers traveling over his neck-and evoking goosebumps in their wake-as if testing. When Nick didn't waver, his soft grin widened.

"Good,"the elder whispered contently before covering him once again and claiming his lips more firmly.

It was easier for Nick to give into it this time, to open his mouth under Hank's automatically and invite him in.

Hank's arm slid underneath his hips, pulling him against his body as he accepted the invitation. Nick groaned at the now familiar sensation of Hank's tongue in his mouth, exploring the wet cavern languidly. He could definitely get used to this.

Sadly, it was punctuated-as usual-by the sound of a phone ringing. Nick's, to be specific, as he discovered when they managed to separate and check their cells.

"Who is it?" Hank wondered, reluctantly rolling off him.

"It's Monroe," Nick supplied, arching his brows as he examined the name on the screen. He pressed the green answer button and brought the device to his ear. "Monroe?"  
  


" _Hey, Nick, sorry to call you so early, but I got something to tell you_ ," his friend told him seriously. " _My uncle called me like three this morning-he's a book dealer in Leipzig and he said he had some books that you might be interested in._ "

"Me?" Nick quipped, bemused. "Why?"

There was static on the line as Monroe heaved a sigh.  
" _My mom told him that I had a friend-a friend who was a Grimm_ ," he explained, and Nick could picture his face-because it probably mirrored his own. But, after a pause, his tone altered. " _Look, man,he sent me some pictures and they look like your books.I think you should come take a look;if you want, you can come over now-or later_."

Nick glanced at Hank, who cocked an eyebrow as if to ask 'what's going on?' before responding. "Let me talk to Hank, and I'll let you know in a bit, okay?"

" _Oh, you're with Hank right now?_ " Monroe cut in, audibly surprised-though not as surprised as he might have been before.

Nick nodded, though he knew Monroe couldn't see him.

"Yeah, Juliette found out about us and kicked me out, so I'm staying with him for a while. I'll tell you the details when I see you, if you want to hear."

" _Oh, well, that's not good, I guess. But at least you guys don't have to sneak around anymore_ ," Monroe offered, repeating verbatim what he'd said last night. " _But, yeah, okay. Just tell us when you know what you're doing. I don't really know what my uncle is aiming for here, other than finding out if you're interested._ "

"I will. Talk to you soon," Nick said amenably, ending the call, then turning to Hank, who had sat up during his conversation.

"What was that?" he queried in puzzlement, having not gleaned much from Nick's side of the call.

"Apparently, Monroe's uncle called him at 3:30 this morning. He's a book dealer in Leipzig, and he said he had some books that I might be interested in," Nick summarized for him, raising himself off the mattress as well. "Monroe said he sent some photos and they look like they're from a Grimm book."

Hank's brown eyes widened.

"He's another Blutbad?" When Nick nodded, a hint of suspicion entered those eyes. "How did he get his hands on a Grimm book?"

Nick shrugged cluelessly.

"I think I should take a look, see if they're legit."

"How does a book dealer in Leipzig know about you?" Hank posed the next question Nick expected, and his mouth quirked wryly.

"Monroe's mother mentioned me."

The elder man's features shifted into faint disapproval.

"So much for confidentiality," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Well, if he's trying to sell you these books, make sure he didn't kill a Grimm to get them."

Nick inclined his head; that was precisely what he'd been thinking.

"You want to come look at these pictures?" he proposed, climbing out from under the covers and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Sure," Hank accepted, getting up as well.

Nick nodded a second time.  
"All right. Text Monroe for me, let him know we'll be over soon," he instructed, grabbing his shower stuff out of his bag and heading to the bathroom.

He didn't hear Hank speak since he was already in the hall, but he presumed his partner had complied and therefore he shouldn't take his time washing up.

He couldn't pretend it didn't feel peculiar walking into Hank's bathroom in just his boxers, but it was less of an adjustment than he thought it would be-just like sleeping in his bed. Actually, as he was setting his possessions down on the sink counter, next to Hank's, it felt as though he was really moving in with Hank, like this wasn't just temporary.  
As had last night, which Nick was still thinking about as he stripped and climbed into the shower

* * *

And as they drove together to Monroe and Rosalee's after they'd both cleaned up and eaten. Prior to then, they'd never done more than kiss or been anywhere besides Hank's couch or the trailer, but being in Hank's bed, seeing him shirtless and having Hank's skin against his, that had been like an entirely different thing.

The memory was quite distracting, making it hard to concentrate on what they were supposed to be doing. But he thought he managed to act at least halfway normal when Rosalee opened the door for them.

"Hey. I'm glad you guys came right over. This is some amazing stuff," she greeted them with a welcoming smile, her eyes bright.

She took them to where Monroe in the living room, a photo album in his grasp that he turned to show them when they arrived.

"This is Uncle Felix, the guy who called," he informed them, indicating a photograph of a rather heavyset, older man with large wire-framed spectacles and thinning graying hair.

"He's a Blutbaden?" Hank said skeptically after inspecting the photo. The man featured there bore hardly any resemblance to the Blutbaden they'd encountered.

Monroe nodded with a soft laugh.

"Yeah. More of a 'Book'-baden. Not really a physical guy."

Nick chuckled; that explained it.

"So, what did he send?" 

"That's on the computer. Follow me," Monroe said, setting the album down and leading them and Rosalee into the dining room, where his laptop sat on the table. "He said he was doing an appraisal. Uncle Felix is called on a lot to, like, appraise old books or book collections. He works for museums and collectors all over Europe, and I got to tell you, these look really old. Some of these Wesen, I don't think I've ever even heard of them."

"Me, either," Rosalee put in emphatically.

"He knew what the books were?" Nick quipped, lowering himself into the chair in front of the computer.

"He did," Monroe confirmed, opening the email his uncle had sent him with the photos attached with a tiny sigh. "Look, he's a smart book dealer. He knows the value of these is obviously gonna be different for a Grimm than it'd be for someone who thinks they're just, you know fairy tales."

Nick leaned in as Monroe clicked on the pictures, examining them closely. Right from the first glance, he could tell they were very old, and the drawings on the aged parchment were strikingly similar to those contained in the books he had in the trailer-although he didn't recognize most of the Wesen they depicted, either.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Hank's eyes widening again, These were definitely Grimm books-which begged the question how had Monroe's uncle gotten them?

"Did your uncle know a Grimm?"

Monroe lifted his shoulders.

"Not that I know of, but, look, having a relationship with a Grimm isn't exactly something you brag about in public, especially in the old country."

"Do you trust him?" Nick questioned more importantly;if the books were real, they had to be worth a lot. If not, well, then it could be one hell of a scam.

"You mean do I think this stuff is real?" Monroe looked offended at the mere implication that they might not be. "Hell, yeah, it's real. Uncle Felix wouldn't touch a forgery."

Nick paused. He didn't know Monroe's uncle, but he knew Monroe; if his friend believed this wasn't a scam, then he was inclined to also. And if these were legit, he did want them.

"Did he say how much he wants?"

"No," Monroe said. "I think he just wants to find out if you're interested first. Look, I don't mean to pressure you, I'm just saying this stuff looks amazing. so, if you are-,"

"I am," Nick admitted, allowing his interest to show as he straightened from his position. Monroe was right; even by the usual standards of a Grimm book, the material in those images was pretty incredible. And he never knew when he might encounter one of those Wesen.

Monroe grinned, like he'd been hoping Nick would say that.

"All right," he declared, clapping his hands together eagerly. "I'll call my uncle, let him know that you want them."

He withdrew his phone from his pants pocket and went into the other room to make his call.

Rosalee, meanwhile, turned away from the computer screen to address their guests.

"So, how did Juliette find out about you two? Monroe said she kicked you out, Nick?"

Nick rubbed at the back of his neck, her less-than-sympathetic tone making him suddenly uncomfortable. Not that he wanted sympathy, but it did make him feel rather awkward.

Still, he'd said he would fill them in, and he liked to keep his word.

"Well, Hank and I went out last night, and since it wasn't anything to do with HW or Black Claw, we didn't get anyone to cover for us," he started carefully, licking his lips. "But, apparently, Juliette tried to call me while we were together and my phone was off, so she called the preceinct and was told that I wasn't there, even though I let her assume I was. She confronted me about it when I got home, and I told her everything; I thought she could probably figure it out, anyways, so I thought it was time to end the charade."

Rosalee's brows furrowed, and Nick could tell she didn't approve. He felt better getting that off his chest, though; she could tell Monroe later so he wouldn't have to and it was just easier that people knew rather than speculate.

"Well, I won't say I told you so, but at least, you told her," Rosalee stated, crossing her arms like a stern parent. "Now we all don't have to lie to her, either. I wasn't looking forward to that, I have to tell you."

Nick sighed. Apologizing again for having put Rosalee in that position didn't' seem entirely adequate, so instead he just raised his palms and didn't say anything, listening to how Monroe's conversation with his uncle was going

From the sound of things, it wasn't actually occurring at all.

"Just tell him that Monroe called," he heard Monroe say before putting his cell away with a bemused expression and returning to his wife and companions.

"You didn't get ahold of him?" Nick inquired.

"No, someone else answered, someone I didn't know," Monroe replied with blatant confusion. "I left my name with them, so I guess we'll have to wait until he calls back."

Nick glanced at his partner, gauging what he thought they should do now. They shouldn't push, he supposed, and they did have another engagement today; it would be better to take care of that rather than just hang around here.

"Well, we have something to work on for HW, so maybe just let us know when he does," Hank decided for them, hands retreating into the pockets of his jacket.

Monroe gave a small jerk of his head.

"Sure. Hopefully it won't be too long, but I'll call you."

Nick shot him a grateful smile, then he and Hank made to depart.

"Thanks. We'll talk to you guys later," he bid them farewell for the time being, and Hank tossed them a wave before he and Nick walked out the door.

* * *

"You think maybe we ought to talk about this outside the precinct?" Hank recommended once they were back on the road.

Nick rested his head against the seat, pondering Hank's words as the city passed by; it was a valid thought. Even if Renard wasn't in, Black Claw could still have spies in the force. One of them could even be involved with the sabotage-just because Renard was their main focus didn't mean others weren't already part of it-and if they overheard, that would blow Nick and Hank's cover as HW agents, and put them in even more jeopardy.

"Yeah, we should," Nick concurred, taking out his cell to compose a message to Wu about the change in plans. "I'll text Wu to meet us somewhere more private."

"Trailer?" Hank offered, and Nick instantly went with that. Since he'd moved it, less people knew where it was, lessening the chances of them being interrupted or watched.

"Good idea."

At Nick's consent, Hank steered the vehicle in the direction of the trailer's new location; Wu predictably hadn't arrived yet by the time they got there, so they went inside to wait for him.

Nick dropped into the chair at the desk in the corner, casting his gaze about for a place to begin.

"If Black Claw is Wesen of all types, what kind do you think they'd use for a job like this?" Hank wondered aloud, standing opposite him and also contemplating their mission.

"Well," Nick tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "It definitely wouldn't be one of the more meek types like a Reinigen-and if they plan on recruiting Renard, I would think it'd be some kind that wouldn't clash with a Zauberbiest. Although something tells me that wouldn't leave many options."

Hank's lip[s twitched at the thinly veiled insult. Nick hadn't meant it to come out that way, but it was the truth; he doubted there were many Wesen who would get along with a Zauberbiest. They didn't exactly seem like the type to be known for their friendliness.

"Anyways, first, we have to establish where this person might be hiding. It has to be someone who could get close to the Captain, maybe someone they already have in place like one of our officers, or whoever convinced Renard to get involved with the election to begin with."

Hank's head jerked slightly, as if physically affected by Nick's implication. Renard hadn't said why he'd chosen to become involved with Andrew Dixon's campaign; they'd assumed it was merely because he thought Dixon would make a good mayor, but he could have been asked. Black Claw could have been orchestrating things from the start.

The door of the trailer opened, cutting into their reveries, and they both whipped around to see Wu clambering inside.

"Morning," he greeted them, his casual manner not matching his haggard appearance or the prominent bags underneath his eyes. "I miss anything important?"

"Nope," Nick shook his head. "We were just discussing how Black Claw might be trying to get Renard to work with them-that they could have an agent on Dixon's campaign."

Wu's brows contracted much like Hank's had.

"You think there could be a conspiracy?"

Both detectives shrugged noncommittally. They didn't want to go straight to that assumption, not until they had concrete proof.

"It's a possibility, but we don't have anything to corroborate. We need a way to get a closer look into the campaign, see if anyone is suspicious."

"How will we manage that? The election isn't exactly part of _our_ job description," Wu pointed out, taking a seat on the couch along the window side and kneading his forehead with his knuckles.

Nick lifted his gaze to Hank. He wasn't sure; this wasn't like a standard case-it was a lot more cloak and dagger than usual police work. However, there was also more riding on it, so he was going to have to figure it out.

"We can start by keeping a closer eye on the Captain," he mused aloud, making it up as he spoke. "We already told him Black Claw has their eye on him; we could ask him about the campaign without seeming suspicious. But if someone there is Black Claw, we'll have to be careful about looking into them. We'll need to know who they are, what they are, and what they're planning."

Hank sat down, too, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Maybe we can get Renard to get close to them, spy on them for us," he submitted tentatively, watching his companions for their approval.

It was kind of an underhanded way to go about it, but that was precisely why Black Claw might not anticipate it; that was their method of doing things.

Wu and Nick weren't immediately forthcoming with a response, debating. That sort of subterfuge wasn't exactly any of their strong suits, and Renard might see through any deception they tried to perpetrate; but neither of them had a better idea, either.

As if sensing their indecision, he amended, "But first, maybe we should identify the members first, see if you clock either of them as Wesen, or if they're in HW's database."

That seemed to give Wu an idea, because he rolled up his sleeve to check his watch.

"I think we could have an opportunity to do that; the Captain has a meeting with Dixon and his people in about a half hour."

Nick snapped his head toward him, interest piqued.

"How do you know that"

"I got a look at his calendar last night after you guys left," Wu replied innocently.

"We should get a look at that meeting," Hank declared, returning to his feet. 

Nick stood also. They could still make good time getting to the precinct if they pushed.

The three of them exited the trailer, Wu climbing into his own vehicle, and they tailed him to the station in silence. 

They made the journey in record time, hastening out of the garage and up to the Captain's office.

"Did we make it?" Nick wondered.

Wu gestured toward the room. "See for yourself."

Nick peered in through the half-drawn blinds covering the glass, catching a glimpse of Renard with three guests. One of them was easily recognizable as Andrew Dixon, the candidate, but the other two Nick didn't know: a tall woman with sleek curly red hair, and an older, slightly rotund man with glasses. 

He and Hank stopped, trying to get a better glance at the two strangers without being obvious. They didn't know the names of those other two people; they could ask Renard, perhaps, but he would ask why they needed to know and Nick didn't think they should tell him. At least, not yet.

Nick wondered whether it would be possible for HW to identify them through facial recognition from a photo. He didn't think it would be too far-fetched to assume they had that software; of course, if he got noticed taking pictures of them, someone would still probably want to know why he was taking photos of them-but that just meant he'd have to avoid being caught.

"Look like you're working," he directed Wu to one of the computers, then beckoned Hank over as he withdrew his HW phone. "Stand here and look like we're talking. I wanna get a picture of those two; I can send it to HW and see if they can tell us who, if either of them, is Wesen."

Hank complied, altering his position so he was in front of the window-though not entirely, ensuring he wasn't blocking Nick's view of the team members.

While Hank did that, and Wu went over to the indicated desk, Nick positioned the viewfinder of his phone and once he'd discerned how to take a picture, snapped one of each of the strangers.

Doing so without provoking Renard's attention wasn't easy, but he thought he managed. He didn't seen the Captain turn in his direction; his focus remained on the people he was speaking with the whole time.

After he'd captured a decent image, he steered Hank away from the windows, waiting until they were at their desks before sending the picture to Meisner with a message saying to check if they were Wesen.

Stowing the phone back in his pocket, he pressed his palm onto the surface of his desk and exhaled.

"You got it?" Hank queried, taking his usual seat at Nick's left.

"Yeah," Nick said. "I sent it; now we'll just have to wait for a response." He paused, his thoughts shifting to the other question they were waiting to hear about. "How much do you think a Grimm book is worth?"

Sensing Nick's need for a temporary distraction, Hank didn't discourage the change of subject.

"Hey, you know, if you need some money-," he started to offer, but Nick forestalled him.

"No, that's not what I meant. I just-Monroe's right. We can't let anyone else get their hands on that book. It's too valuable."

Hank nodded; he understood. All the Grimm memorabilia was valuable, important relics of history that couldn't be allowed to fall into the wrong hands; that was just one of the reasons why he'd moved the trailer somewhere no one else would find it.

"I know. And I hope we get it."

They fell silent once more, Nick lifting a pen off the desk and tapping it restlessly.

Then, two things happened at the same time: Nick's phone buzzed, but before he could look at it, he was diverted by the sound of Wu suddenly tumbling out of his chair onto the floor.

"Hey, Wu!" Nick exclaimed, scrambling from his seat over his friend, concern causing a lump in his throat. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with Wu, other than looking as though he hadn't slept much, but he'd never known that to cause Wu to collapse.

Hank was on Wu's other side and together, they seized his arms, helping him to his feet.

"What happened?"the elder queried, worry also marring his features.

Wu shook his head, scrubbing at his face-which, Nick noticed, was now glistening with sweat.

"Uh, nothing. I just stood up too fast, got a little dizzy," he tried to dismiss the issue, flicking his fingers at them. "But I'm fine. I'm fine, really."

Nick and Hank looked at each other over his head, neither of them convinced. This was more than just dizziness; everything about Wu right then screamed there was something else wrong.

"When was the last time you ate?" Hank inquired, going to the most common cause:it was, unfortunately, a habit that they forgot to eat when they were working, and Wu did it even more than them.

"Uhhh," the sergeant's expression contorted, as if he were struggling to recall. "I think I had something...last night." He didn't sound very certain.

Nick shot him a reproving look as he and Hank released him into his chair, testing to see if he could remain upright. Something told him that Wu didn't mean what they were asking, and that made him anxious; he couldn't look out for his friend if he didn't know what was going on with him.

"Well, obviously, that wasn't enough. You need to take better care of yourself, Wu," he admonished.

Wu raised his palms in surrender, then attempted to distract them. "Did I hear your phone go off'? What did Meisner say?"

Nick was onto him, but he did want to see Meisner's response more than he wanted to continue lecturing. With a final censuring glance, he withdrew his encrypted phone again.

" ' _Woman is Wesen. Name Rachel wood-Lowen. No known ties to Black Claw yet, but looking into it_ ,' "he read the message he'd just received aloud, but in an undertone so only Hank and Wu would hear, his frown deepening for a different reason.

"So, one of them _is_ Wesen," Wu surmised pointedly, dropping his voice as well. "That means she could be Black Claw; she could be the one we're looking for."

Nick thought back to what he'd seen of the woman earlier: he hadn't gotten a very long look, but in those few seconds, he'd noted that she and the Captain had seemed pretty chummy. If they had a relationship, she might be using it to lure him into working with Black Claw.

"We should do some background on her, look for a record or any affiliations with criminal organizations. That would give us something to get the Captain not to trust her."

The detectives nodded, but when Wu went to get started, Hank stopped him. "But first, go get something to eat. We don't want you passing out on us."

"Yes, _Mom_ ," Wu rolled his eyes before stalking off in a different direction.

Nick chuckled ruefully at Wu's retreating back, knowing his exasperation was just a front. Hank was only mother-hen-ing him because he cared. While he went to get food, Nick and Hank resumed their seats and dove into that background check.

* * *

Looking into Rachel Wood's past took more time than Nick thought it should. There didn't seem to be much on her before she started working in politics; he didn't expect her record to say she was Black Claw, but it didn't even say the most basic of things like if she'd ever been arrested or if anyone in her family had been. In fact, he couldn't even pinpoint her birthplace or who her parents were-or rather, her real parents, for the names he found sounded made up.

He considered whether or not to call into their supposed workplaces to see if they even existed, but quickly discounted it: Renard could easily catch them, especially if he did that here, and doing it from a personal phone might raise other red flags. Sadly, that put them at a bit of a dead end.

He didn't have long to dwell on it, however; by the time he managed to locate Rachel Wood's supposed parents, it was evening and another matter reared its head.

"Monroe?" Nick answered his phone again, both excited and wary at what Monroe's call could mean.

" _Hey, Nick_ ," Monroe sounded as if he'd had a big shock but was attempting to conceal it-and Nick quickly discovered why. " _My uncle's here_."

"From Leipzig?" Nick quipped, also rather stunned. That was rather abrupt; he hadn't thought when Monroe's uncle offered him the books, he'd be delivering them personally. And even if that was his intention, he'd thought there would be more warning.

" _Yup_ ," Monroe confirmed, his tone matching Nick's. "S _howed up unannounced, and, uh, he says he really needs to talk to you, like right now_."

Another voice interjected, then, this one also male, but distinctly older and with a thicker accent.

"Ja, _I have traveled a great distance. This cannot wait. We must meet with you tonight._ " That, Nick presumed, was Felix. Evidently, he was right there; that explained Monroe's rather harried manner.

" _So-,_ "Monroe prompted, but he was again interrupted by his uncle.

" _Tell him I brought this_."

Nick couldn't see what Felix was talking about, but it got Monroe to do a complete 180-which to Nick meant it could only be one thing.

 _"Oh, my. Nick, he brought one of these books. I'm sorry; I think you really need to see this_."

Having his assumption proven also altered Nick's attitude, and he was convinced.

"Okay, on our way," he acceded, taking his jacket from the back of his chair and ending the call before turning to Hank. "Monroe's uncle is here. He says he brought the book."

Hank stood, heavy brows cocking.

"Just out of the blue like that? Why didn't he call? Why did he fly in?"

Nick shrugged, already beelining for the exit.

"I don't know, but I'm not sure if I trust him. He could be setting some kind of trap by not giving us any warning."

"Well, that's why i'm coming," Hank finished, leaving no room for argument.

Nick grinned at the unconcealed protectiveness in Hank's voice; it wasn't even a question. 

* * *

Nick heard the din of conversation when he and Hank knocked on Monroe's door a short while later: he could make out that same thicker German brogue saying something about someone dying of the Plague in 1407. That had to be some bit of the book's history, he thought.

Monroe answered the door pretty rapidly, revealing his features just as stymied as they'd been that morning.

"Hello," Felix started to greet Nick cordially from the living room, but his manner shifted when he saw Hank. "Wait a minute. Who's he?"

"Uncle Felix, these are my friends, Nick and Hank," Monroe introduced them soothingly, also puzzled by his uncle's abrupt reservation at Hank's presence.

His introduction of Hank as his friend didn't appear to placate Felix for he remained prickly as he demanded, "Why is he here?"

"He's my partner," Nick supplied, and the others in the house knew he meant in every sense of the word-well, he wasn't sure Monroe's uncle did, but it was the main purpose of Hank being there."He's aware of all this, and I want him here."

That still didn't seem to settle the elder Blutbad, so Monroe stepped in.

"It's okay, Uncle Felix. Hank's perfectly trustworthy; he's a cop," he waved his hand at his uncle, hoping that would be enough to calm him.

"Very well." That finally appeared to do the trick because Felix's almost snarl vanished, to be replaced by an only marginally less guarded expression.

"Nice to meet you, too," Hank commented caustically under his breath, planting his hands on his hips as he faced the white-haired man.

Nick suppressed a laugh, shaking his head before moving the conversation along.

"So, where's this book?"

Monroe and Rosalee parted so Nick could see the coffee table as Felix gestured at it.

"It's over here," he said, directing Nick's attention to the worn tome he hadn't previously noticed, evoking a sudden awe in the Grimm.

He made to reach for it, but Felix stopped him.

"Ah, but do not touch with your fingers! It is too old!"he insisted passionately, startling Nick. " _Handschune._ Careful."

He was too interested to argue, so when Rosalee thrust a latex glove at him, he took it without protest. Once it was on, he crouched down before the table and gingerly began to leaf through the wrinkled pages.

It certainly looked like a Grimm book, he observed; it matched the ones already in his possession with its fraying edges and fading ink. However, even compared to those, this one was quite remarkable. While the parchment felt as though it were in danger of crumbling in his fingers, it was the drawings that really caught his eye. They were definitely of Wesen, but most of them were completely alien, and the names written underneath-he didn't recognize those, either.

"Huh." He gave a sharp appreciative intake of breath, and he could hear that his companions were having the same reaction.

"Is it real?" Hank wondered as Nick sensed him bending to examine it over his shoulder.

"It looks like, yeah," Nick declared confidently; it was either the genuine article, or an exceptionally good forgery.

"I would not come all this way to trick you," Felix intoned vehemently, rankled that Nick would even doubt the veracity of his merchandise.

Its legitimacy ascertained, Nick broached the other topic.

"Monroe said this was one of multiple books. You have more?"

"There are 20," Felix revealed, to everyone's shock.

"Twenty?!" Hank repeated, staring at the white-hair as if he couldn't believe his ears. Nick definitely couldn't when Felix inclined his head.

_"Ja."_

"Where?" Nick questioned fervently. One book like this had been astonishing enough, but if there were twenty...that was more than he'd ever dared to expect.

"I brought them with me," Felix replied, lifting his shoulders.

Nick's manner altered again; now he knew the books were real, he was still troubled by the question of where they had come from.

"These definitely belonged to a Grimm."

" _Ja,_ I believe they did," Felix agreed enthusiastically, eyes lighting with an energy they hadn't possessed before.

"How did you get it? Did you kill him?" Nick demanded, getting to his feet and removing the glove.

"Oh, no, no, no," Felix assured him hastily. "I am not violent. No, these books belonged to Josef Nebojsa. He lived in Prague; he was very old. Uh, he died of natural causes. I was brought in to assess the books by an antiques dealer friend of mine. They were hidden in the attic of the house."

"Then, Josef must have been a Grimm-or related to one," Rosalee concluded knowledgeably.

"I mean, he could have inherited them, had no idea what they were," Nick stated, saddened by that possibility.

Felix, in contrast, seemed unconcerned.

"However he got them is not important. The fact that they exist is a miracle. Perhaps I should have destroyed them, but I can't; they're too rare. That would be like destroying the Magna Carta or the original pages of Chaucer's ' Canterbury Tales'. I've devoted my whole life to the written word. I cannot be the one to erase any of them from the world. I've spent my entire life defending the imagination, the thoughts, and the passions of the writer who would commit these words to the page-," He cut off, realizing that everyone was staring at him as he got steadily more and more animated, and he cleared his throat. "I am sorry. I get carried away."

Nick was impressed by his fervor-he obviously cared deeply about the literature-but that also made him leery of what price he might put on such a valuable item.

"How much do you want?" he decided to stop beating around the bush.

The bookseller's expression didn't make him feel any better.

"Well, handling such material is very dangerous; but in spite of the fact that they are priceless, I will let you have them for $100,000."

Everyone's expression went from impressed to stricken, including Nick's.

"$100,000?" Monroe repeated, gaping at his uncle.

"It is the best I can do," Felix threw up his palms again, already charging out of the house toward the door. "My antiques dealer friend has already been killed, and whoever did it must know that I have them. Here, you can keep the book I brought. I will contact you in 24 hours for your decision."

Before any further objections could be made, he'd gone out the door and taken off, shutting it behind him. 

Nick slapped his hands on his legs in defeat.

"There's no way I can pull together $100, 000 in 24 hours."  
"But Nick, if all the books like this one!" Rosalee decried ardently, not giving up.

"And what if they're destroyed? Which is what'll happen if they fall into certain Wesen hands," Monroe put in, appealing to the Grimm in Nick-which worked. He didn't want that.

He took a measured breath, unsure what options they had. He didn't have that kind of money, and he doubted he could raise it in time, even if they all chipped in.

After a weighted silence, Monroe came up with a possible solution.

"HW might be able to help, right? I mean, Meisner told you they were funded by the government, didn't he? These books would mean something to them, too."

That actually might work, Nick thought. HW had to have a decent amount of funding, judging by the size and scope of their operation, and these books could be of help to them, too. Monroe was right.

"We could talk to Meisner and show it to him. I mean, it's worth a try," he said offhandedly.

Monroe and Hank both nodded, the former collecting the book into his arms.

"I'll see what I can find out about Josef Nebojsa," Rosalee offered.

"Right on," Monroe pecked his wife on the cheek, then he and the detectives departed the house as well.

* * *

Nick texted Meisner once more to tell him they were coming in just to check where they would be meeting this time. 

The German man quickly replied, okaying them to come to the usual place, so that was where Hank brought them.

They saw Meisner and Chione through the gate as the guard opened it to admit them into the ops centre. Chione was sprawled in a chair with a laptop resting on her knees, but her gaze went to the book almost immediately/

"Is that the book?" she quipped by way of a greeting.

"Yeah," Monroe set the book down on the table in front of her, and she leaned forward to get a better view.

"Do you know about the Grimm books?" Nick addressed Meisner, hoping he would understand why they were important.

The light-haired man's expression was unreadable as he spoke. "Yes. I've seen a few."

"Well, this one is pretty amazing, even as far as Grimm books go," Monroe claimed, opening the book and spreading it out to emphasize his point.

Chione's eyes flashed as they took in the art and content on the yellowing parchment, and after a few minutes, they went to Nick's.

"You say there are 19 more like this?"

"Yes. Monroe's uncle brought them here from Prague; they were owned by someone named Josef Nebojsa," Nick filled in.

As he uttered that name, he saw what could only be described as recognition flare in the other man and woman as they looked at each other.

"What?"

"We've heard that name before," Chione answered, consternation blatant in her voice.

Nick paused, not sure if that was good or bad. "Where?"

"There's a Black Claw on the wall of his house," Meisner informed them with a faint grimace. "They killed an antiques dealer there."

"We get an alert whenever that mark appears anywhere in the world," Chione expanded.

"That must be the friend who called Felix to examine the books to begin with," the Blutbad deduced, illuminating what Nick had suspected since Felix mentioned that murder.

"Black Claw must have been after them, and if they're willing to kill for them, they must consider them dangerous," he asserted, emphasizing the crucialness of acquiring the books first.

"Well, they think all things Grimm are dangerous; one of their goals is to eradicate everything relating to them, including the Grimms themselves," Chione pointed out in a dire tone, standing. "Obviously, we don't want that."

"So, can you get us the $100,000 Monroe's uncle is asking for?" Nick requested earnestly. "We only have 24 hours."

"Actually, make that 22 and a half," Monroe corrected dismally after checking his watch. "And my uncle will not hang around."

Meisner hesitated, his mouth tightening.

"I'll try," he said, much to Nick's disappointment. "But this is government money from a fund that doesn't' exist, so I can't promise anything."

Nick sighed resignedly. He supposed that was the best they were going to get; if the sight of the books wasn't enough to sway whoever held the purse strings, he didn't know what would be,.

"All right, thanks," he said, deciding there was no more reason for them to stay. It was in HW's hands now.

* * *

Just as it had been unusual waking up in Hank's bed that morning, it was strange returning to his house that night instead of Juliette's; but, in its own way, it was also kind of nicer. He didn't feel at all out of place-actually, he felt more at home than he had at Juliette's in the last couple of weeks. And not merely because of the place itself.

Yet, conversely, he had more trouble sleeping that night even with Hank lying next to him for he was restless with the uncertainty of whether or not he'd be able to acquire those books, and why Black Claw wanted them.

Unfortunately, even by midmorning the following day, they still hadn't gotten either of those answers. He did, however, receive a clue when his phone rang at the point when their allotted time was nearly half over.

"Monroe," Nick answered not impolitely, but not entirely welcoming, either, once he'd read the name on the screen. He knew what Monroe's first question was going to be.

" _Hey, Nick, have you heard from Meisner?"_

"Nope," Nick replied grimly; his HW phone had remained disappointingly mute the entire night and for the past several hours.

As if to add to his stress, Monroe had to remind him of the pressure.

_"Cause we're down to like ten hours."_

"I know."

 _"Anyway, Rosalee, found some incredible stuff about this Josef Nebojsa,_ " Monroe must have heard the irritation in Nick's tone because he, thankfully, shifted tacks.

" _I was able to trace his lineage. Nick, his ancestors go back to the Crusades. If I'm right, one of his relatives on his father's side was a knight that fought for the Knights Templar in the sack of Constantinople. And he was from Zollern, a town in the Black Forest_ ," Rosalee told him excitedly, sounding energized by uncovering those connections.

Monroe audibly was as well.

" _Nick, I think this guy is really rooted, okay. We cannot let these books get away. I mean, the history of them alone is worth...a lot._ "

"Well, I don't have $100,000," Nick declined testily, not knowing what else they wanted him to do. Unless they had that kind of cash lying around, there was no help for it.

" _Neither do we,_ " Rosalee said, as he expected; but she at least had a proposition. " _But we were thinking maybe we could all come up with enough to make Monroe's uncle make us a deal._ "

"Maybe," Nick responded slowly. He was willing to try anything at this point; he really did want these books.

He was interrupted by Hank coming around the corner and waving to get his attention, signaling the end of the discussion-for now.

"Hey, we got a body."

"I gotta go," he went to hang up, but Monroe stalled him.

" _Dude, think about it, though okay? I mean, I can stall for time as long as he thinks we're getting the money._ "

"Yeah, try it," Nick gave his permission before ending the call and falling into step beside Hank to the site of the aforementioned body.

Which was the Grand Regent hotel in downtown Portland. Wu met them in the hall, having arrived earlier as usual to summarize what they knew so far.

"Victim is mid-60's. Attacked inside his hotel room sometime earlier this morning. This one's rather unusual, even considering the normal unusual."

Hank was visibly thrown by that remark; Wu made it rather often,, but it was always a different-and usually worse-story.

"Why?"

"Victim's mouth has a lot of blood," the sergeant elucidated.

"Was he hit?" Nick catechized, a crease materializing on his forehead. A victim with blood in their mouth wasn't that abnormal, but considering what else Wu had said, it was a little off-putting.

It got more so as they approached the room and Wu revealed his observation.

"No, more like he bit somebody-hard."

Nick wasn't certain what he meant until they entered the chamber and got their first glimpse of the body. Although it wasn't the first thing they noticed: their attention was primarily drawn by the state of the quarters.

They were totally trashed, clothes strewn across the carpet, the chairs and other furniture overturned; even the mattress was stripped and tossed off the frame.

The detective knew what that meant.

"Looks like somebody was looking for something," Hank commented, surveying the carnage with raised eyebrows.

"Got a possible ID," Wu continued, taking out his customary notepad and reading off it. "Victim is registered as-,"

"Felix." As it turned out, Nick didn't need Wu tell him who the victim was because he recognized him. After all, he'd met him less than 24 hours ago.

Wu was startled.

"How'd you know that?" he wondered, looking up from his notes in bemusement.

"That's Monroe's uncle," Hank explained, also recognizing the dead man.

Nick was torn at the grisly tableau. On the one hand, this let him off the hook for getting the money for the books; on the other hand, of course, this was Monroe's family. Monroe was going to be devastated.

"They must have been after the books," Nick declared, mouth thinning as he got out his phone and dialed. "I have to tell Monroe."

His friend picked up right away, and Nick could tell when he spoke that he was on speaker.

" _Hey, Nick, did you hear from Meisner?_ "

"No," Nick sighed. "Monroe, I have some bad news."

" _What, we have to come up with the money_ ," Monroe said, as if he were truly worried that was what Nick had called to tell him. 

Nick swallowed; this was going to be a hard blow to deliver.

"No, it's not that. Your uncle Felix has been murdered."

" _What?!_ " he heard Monroe's voice break in shock and grief-and Rosalee's accompanying exclamation. " _Oh, my God._ "

"I'm at the crime scene now. I think I need your help on this one," he requested apologetically. He didn't want to force Monroe to come here, but he did think he could help. "It looks Wesen on Wesen, but it's pretty brutal."

He didn't need to see Monroe to know he was probably crying, and he felt so bad. Not that it was his fault, but that it did benefit him-and he felt even worse for thinking that way.

He waited respectfully for Monroe to gather himself, ready to say he understood if he couldn't do it.

" _Um...yeah, just tell me where_ ," he complied slowly, to Nick's gratitude, heaving a trembling breath.

"The Grand Regent hotel," Nick told him quietly, trying not to sound too pushy. He fully appreciated how terrible it would be for Monroe to have to see his uncle's murder and that he was doing this in spite of that.

Monroe inhaled deeply, the sound crackling through the line.

" _I know it._ " Nick let him go, then, knowing he would be here, and Nick would do his best to make this as painless as possible.

* * *

There were, unsurprisingly, tears pouring from Monroe's eyes as soon as they fell on his uncle's lifeless form.

"I can't believe this." The words wrenched from his quivering lips as if they physically hurt. "I guess 24 hours was more than he had." He sniffed loudly. "I'm gonna have to call my mom, and...I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm sorry it had to turn out this way," Nick consoled him remorsefully, patting his arm.

"Yeah," Monroe sniffed again, struggling to regain his composure. "So, I guess whoever did this got the books, too."

"I'm not so sure," Nick denied. That was the-somewhat-good news. Nick had been mulling over that very thing since he'd called Monroe, and Wu had gone around establishing Felix's activities prior to his death-and they didn't support him having the books with him. "We talked to the manager. Your uncle didn't have a rental car. He arrived by cab."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with the books?" Monroe wondered, nonplussed.

"Each one of those books weighs nearly five pounds," Hank illuminated him. "You don't just cart around 100 pounds of books on your back."

"Your uncle may never have had the books in this room," Nick added positively.

Monroe's gaze returned to Felix's corpse, and moisture started to well in his eyes once more.

"Well, whoever killed him, he fought back right?" he tried to look on a bright side, to assuage his grief with the knowledge that it hadn't just been a slaughter.

"That's right, yeah. Looks like he put up a hell of a fight," Wu supported his statement, as did the scene.

"Yeah," Monroe affirmed with a third sniff. "Uncle Felix got a piece of him..."Then, something seemed to occur to him. "Which means the guy is wounded. Right? I mean, he didn't walk out of here like he walked in."

"Oh, he didn't walk out. He went out the window," Hank disputed, nodding toward the blood smeared on the floor leading toward the glass and on the curtain covering it. "Yep, we'll get some good prints."

"We got to find this bastard," Monroe intoned, jaw clenching fiercely.

Nick was right there with him; whoever did this wasn't going to get away with it-or the books.

The sound of a phone ringing punctuated the air, and the four men all started, casting their eyes around to search for the device, as it wasn't any of theirs. 

It sounded as though it were emitting from underneath the bed, and Nick went to check, coming up with a dark blue flip phone that must have belonged to Felix.

He pressed the answer button, and an unfamiliar, harsh voice said Felix's name, then proceeded to go off on in German. Nick increased the volume, but he didn't understand the language, so it turned out to be rather superfluous.

Monroe, though, did, and he replied for them.

"Uh... _momentan kahn Felix leider nicht ans telefon komm_."

Whatever he said seemed to satisfy the other speaker because they thanked him-that Nick was able to understand-and then the line went dead.

"What did he say?" Nick probed.

"He said he went to Felix's shop, and it was, like, trashed, like somebody broke in," Monroe translated, his expression becoming even more troubled.

Alarm bells also went off in Nick's mind; that was just like what had happened here, which meant it had to be for the same reason. It could have even been committed by Felix's murderers; they could have followed Felix from Leipzig, chasing the books-which made it even more crucial that Nick acquire them first.

"Find every call made and received from this phone in the last 72 hours," Nick commanded, giving the device to Wu.

"Yep," Wu collected it in an evidence bag, as well as the blood samples from the window and Felix's mouth.

Monroe accompanied them back to the precinct, wanting to be kept appraised of the developments of the case. Once they were there, Hank went to work running the prints through their database.

"Not getting any hits," he announced after a long twenty minutes without any luck. "I'm gonna check Interpol."

Nick, meanwhile, had found something and it did shed some light on what they were looking for.

"There were three different blood types in the hotel room.

"So, there was more than one attacker," Monroe guessed, consternation deepening.

"At least two."

Wu, it transpired when he returned from his station, also hadn't had much luck.

"Having a little trouble with Felix's phone. It got damaged, I'm assuming during the fight. I pulled the SIM card, though; it's being checked."

"HW said the antiques dealer was killed in the house where the books were," Nick was suddenly hit by an idea, and he shared it with his companions. 

"Yeah," Monroe said slowly, turning to Nick, uncertain where he was going with that.

"Well, what if it's the same guys? They could have easily found out your uncle got the books from the dealer and followed him here."

That, in turn, unearthed another event in Monroe's memory

"You remember I called him yesterday and someone else answered? That's never happened before. I mean, yeah, it was late, but he always works late."

"You tell them anything?" Hank piped up.

"Just my name." Monroe abruptly grew anxious. "Oh, god, you don't think they could find him because I made that phone call?"

"Don't go there," Hank interjected before he could get too worked up and blame himself. "They could have gotten a lot of information about your uncle without you."

"If these guys are Black Claw, maybe HW's got something on them," Nick hazarded. They were going to HW pretty often today, but it just happened that the organization had resources they didn't-and this was their concern, too, if it turned out the killers were Black Claw.

"Well, your uncle bloodied them pretty good, so one or both of them could be needing a little medical attention," Wu put in, raising another potential avenue of inquiry.

Exploring both of them would be good, and after a brief silent communication with Hank, they elected to separate and each pursue a different one.

"All right. Wu and I will check hospitals," the elder proposed, pushing his chair away from his desk and tossing Nick his keys.

Nick got up again, gesturing to Monroe to accompany him back outside. "Let's go."

* * *

This time, Nick gave HW the prints they'd taken from the scene so they could check against their Wesen database.

"This guy who was murdered, that's the guy with the books from earlier?" Chione said as she checked the prints.

Nick nodded.

"Yes. We think that's what the killers were after and they're also the ones who killed the antiques dealer in Prague."

The cloaked woman pursed her lips darkly, then fell silent while she waited for the search to turn up something.

Their system must have been more efficient than the police's for a mere moment later, two photos materialized on the screen projected onto the wall.

"We've got a hit," Chione declared, getting out of her chair. "Krisztian Ajandok and Oscar Vasicek. Both Anubi, who we've already established have a connection to a Black Claw cell in the Czech Republic."

"You were right. HW Berlin tied them to the murder of the antiques dealer," Meisner put in, ticking his head toward Nick and Monroe. The praise didn't lighten their moods; if anything, it only made this more complicated.

"Now they're here," the Grimm completed. They were chasing the books for Black Claw; but they hadn't gotten them yet, he expected.

"See if you can find when they arrived," Meisner instructed Chione, just as Nick's phone rang.

He lifted a hand as he answered it.

"Hank."

" _Two paramedics were killed an hour ago. Looks an awful lot like what happened to Monroe's uncle. And the caller spoke with an accent_ ," his partner reported what he and Wu had discovered clinically, establishing another piece of the timeline. 

"Now we have an ID on both of them: Krisztian Ajandok and Oscar Vasicek."

" _HW had that_?" Hank quipped, galvanized.

"Yeah."

" _Wish we had that database_ ," the elder stated wistfully, sounding distressed.

Nick wanted to return to him, but he thought he should stay and get as much from HW as he could. That could make all the difference in catching these guys.

"You got this one?"

" _Yeah. You work that side_ ," Hank consented amenably, ending the call.

Chione had waited for Nick to finish his call before sharing what else she'd found, including another image of two swarthy-looking men on the tarmac of an airport.

"This is them. Timestamp is 11:38 at PDX. I'm also seeing if they rented a car, and if it's been returned; that will tell us if they're still in town."

At once, Nick's phone piped up again, this time with a call from Wu. Since he could have information about Felix's phone, he picked that one up as well.

"Wu."

" _So, I finished going over the SIM card in Felix's phone for the last 72 hours. Nothing unusual, except for the last incoming call_."

"Who was it?" Nick didn't appreciate the pretense, pressing for the details impatiently.

Wu, though, clearly couldn't resist being dramatic for he had to build it up more.

" _Not a who. It's from a cargo company. I called and found out Felix is expecting a shipment to arrive sometime this afternoon or tonight. Without a shipping number, they can't tell me anymore, however_."

"Where's it coming in?"

" _Airport cargo facility. They closed about a half hour ago, won't be open until 9 tomorrow_."

"Thanks," Nick concluded the call, the gears in his brain whirring as aspects of the meeting with Felix began to make sense. "Your uncle had the books shipped."

"That's why he gave you 24 hours to think about it."

"We couldn't find a shipping order in the hotel room, and Felix would have needed that to retrieve the books," Nick declared, recreating the crime scene in his head. That piece of material had been prominently absent, which meant

"Those guys must have taken it," Monroe caught on.

That dimmed Nick's mood even further; if the killers had the shipping order, they could be on their way to the books already. the only way to know was if their rental car had been returned yet-which Chione was still trying to figure out.

At last, after another short pause, he heard what he wanted.

"Found the car. A Ford Expedition, rented under Ajandok's name," Chione stated-and luck was on Nick's side because " He hasn't returned it yet."

The Grimm breathed a sigh of relief.

"They don't have the books yet; they must be going for them." He paused, contemplating. "The cargo company doesn't open until 9 in the morning, but they're not gonna wait for that. We have to go now." He turned on his heel, casting a thankful look over his shoulder. "Thanks for your help."

"Let us know how it works out," Chione called.

"We will," Nick complied before the guard shut the gate to the ops centre and he and Monroe returned to their vehicle.

* * *

He raced to the cargo company-where he immediately spotted the aforementioned rental car.

"That's their car."

"Good. Then they're still here," Monroe growled in what could almost be described as anticipation, advancing toward the building without waiting for Nick. He clearly really wanted to get these guys.

The Grimm hurried to catch up to him, fingers flexing at the handle of his weapon, in case he needed it.

The person they saw once inside was a dead one- a man in a security uniform, who'd been brutally, but efficiently torn apart. the work of the Black Claw agents, predictably.

"Looks like they killed the security guard," Nick murmured, halting at the desk.

A noise like metal clanging emitted from another section of the building, and he resumed motion, ducking underneath the steel plank to follow it.

It lead them to the area where larger items were stored and they found the two men from HW's database in the midst of opening a crate that contained an antique trunk.

Monroe's upper lip pulled back in a snarl at the sight of the Black Claw agents, and he hissed.

"You killed my uncle." He padded around the shelf, Woge-ing as he came face-to-face with his uncle's murderers. "You shouldn't have done that."

The two men weren't threatened by him even once he transformed, instantly doing the same and leaping over the crate, then launching at Monroe.  
The Blutbad caught Krisztian as Oscar aimed for Nick. Monroe tackled the Anubi to the floor, a guttural growl erupting from his throat as he severed Krisztian's windpipe with his claws.

Oscar knocked Nick over the chest; before the Grimm could retaliate, Monroe ran into him next, sinking his elongated canines into the other Anubi's neck.

Nick simply gaped at him for a second after he retracted.

"My uncle was a good man," he intoned vehemently, spitting blood from his mouth.

Nick didn't argue; Monroe didn't need to justify killing those men to him. He'd been ready to do the same.

Instead, he merely directed his friend to the trunk the dead men had been inspecting.

"We need to get this thing out of here," he advised, lifting one side while Monroe stood to get the other and carry it out to Hank's car.

Nick didn't think it would be smart to take it to either of their houses, so he summoned everyone to the Spice shop.

Their friends were all visibly vibrating with anticipation at their arrival, clamouring around to help bring the trunk inside to the basement.

"Are you all right?" Rosalee asked her husband, taking his hand once the trunk was on the floor.

Monroe sighed heavily, and Nick could tell he wasn't sure how to answer that.

"Not really. Those murderers are dead, but so is my uncle still."

Rosalee rubbed his back comfortingly, and Nick gave him a sympathetic glance. He wished there was more he could have done than just aid Monroe in getting his revenge, but for now, all he could was ensure Felix didn't die for nothing.

"At least they didn't get the books," Hank attempted to cheer him, gaze on the chest. "What do you say we get a look at them?"

That actually managed to lift Monroe's mood.

"I'll go get my lockpicks." He extricated himself from Rosalee's embrace and disappeared briefly, returning with his tools.

Hank retreated toward Nick, their shoulders brushing lightly.

"How are you?"

"Just glad we didn't lose these," Nick answered honestly as Monroe got to work unlocking the trunk. That was the real achievement of the night.

They all watched Monroe pick the lock of the chest in suspense; fortunately, it wasn't long before he had success.

"Okay, that should do it."

Nick and the others came over, eagerly lifting the lid. At first, all they uncovered was a bunch of old clothing, but Nick didn't feel any anticlimax; they removed the clothes and beneath, there were stacks of books, exactly like the one Felix had shown them.

"Let's get them out of there," Nick commanded.

The others complied, Monroe handing everyone the books delicately, and they placed them on the table behind them.

"Gently, gently," Monroe entreated them, and they handled the books like glass.

Once they'd gotten them all out, they assembled around the table to appreciate their acquisition-except Hank and Monroe, who seemed to have caught sight of another aspect of interest.

"There's a lot more in here than just books," Hank pronounced after Monroe had reached in and removed what looked to be a loose board.

Nick looked over again, and was stunned:concealed under the bottom of the chest was an arsenal of archaic-looking weapons.

"Oh, that's incredible," Rosalee exclaimed in amazement once she,too, had seen the weapons.

"Our trailer just got a lot more interesting," Hank commented, shooting Nick a sly smile, evoking a quirk in Nick's mouth as well-mostly at the fact that he'd referred to it as 'their' trailer.

As everyone was enraptured by the new discovery, he heard Monroe express another oddity about the chest itself.

"Something about this lock. It's bigger than it needs to be."

No one else seemed to be listening; Hank had sat down to peruse one of the books while Rosalee verbalized her confusion about why these items were so sought after.

"I still don't understand why they would kill people for this. Its only real value is to a Grimm."

"Chione said Black Claw is trying to destroy Grimms and everything about them," Nick shared with a grimace.

"Hey, wait-wait a minute. Look at this one," Hank said suddenly, beckoning them to look at the book in his hands. "It's not like the others. It's like some kind of family tree, book of ancestry."

"That's not-a regular family tree, though," Rosalee disputed as she glimpsed the pages, her brows contracting. "It's only tracking a few individuals from generation to generation-and some of them just dead end."

Nick was struck by those words, and by what he was seeing in the book and he decided to test his theory.

"What's the name of the guy your uncle got the books from?"

"Uh, Josef Nebojsa," Monroe supplied.

Spurred, Nick extended his arm over Hank to point at one of the names on the book-the very one Monroe had just spoken.

"It's the same last name." He nudged Hank. "Uh, go to the end." Hank obeyed, and he was proven right. Josef Nebojsa was written right there in front of them. "There he is."

"Oh, my god," Wu said, catching on. "They're all Grimms."

"That's why this is worth killing for. Everyone in this book is a Grimm," Rosalee realized, too, eyes growing into saucers."If Black claw saw this, they could wipe out every single Grimm in existence."

"Is Burkhardt in there?" Monroe called from where he was attempting to detach the trunk's lock.

"No, it would be, uh, my mother's maiden name, Kessler," Nick amended.

"Hey, I think I just... saw a Kessler," Hank stated, increasing Nick's expectation as he began flipping back pages, halting at one that had that name emblazoned across the top. "Was Walter your grandfather?"

"Yeah," Nick verified, inching forward and scanning the parchment, his astonishment sparking again when he reached the bottom and saw more familiar names. "There's Aunt Marie. There's my mom-and there I am." 

"Nebojsa was keeping this book up to date," Rosalee commented, marveling at what they'd found.

That wasn't the end of it, either. As Monroe continued his effort, he dislodged a piece of wood, exposing something unexpected.

"We got ourselves a secret compartment."

Nick looked over once more to see him root in the newfound compartment, extracting an object wrapped in cloth.

"It's probably just an extra trunk key," Monroe said blandly as he unwrapped it, clearly assuming it was nothing special. But he turned out to be wrong. 

"Nick! You got to see this."

Nick felt his heart rate increase when Monroe turned and handed him an item they all couldn't fail to recognize.

"Oh, my God, another key!"Rosalee gasped rushing over.

But there wasn't just one: Monroe then set down two more.

"Three of them," Nick stated, exhaling sharply. "Go get the others from upstairs."

Rosalee hurried upstairs to retrieve those;he'd given the two Kenneth had given him to her shortly after receiving them, explaining about the Royals being part of HW-which his friends still couldn't believe-and now they had the complete set.

When she returned with the remaining keys, as well as the parchment they'd used in the past to lay out the map, they spread them all on the table, a thrill running up Nick's spine.

"We have them all now. We can find out where they buried whatever they buried," he proclaimed, getting an inkwell for that very purpose. 

It took some time to figure out how they all fit together, but eventually, the map was filled in.

At the same time, Monroe had pulled up a map of present day Germany on his tablet for comparison, and was examining it for correlations.

"Look at this," he said when he pinpointed one. "These three hills here with the two rivers on either side connecting to the bigger river here, that is an exact match for what the keys are saying. And it's in the Schwarzwald."

"The Black Forest?" Hank quipped.

"Yeah," Monroe nodded. "I mean, I know these maps aren't as accurate as, like, modern day topographical maps, but this terrain... is a pretty good match for this terrain, which is outside of Wolfach, which is right here." He tapped the screen of the tablet to indicate where he meant.

Nick let out another exhilarated breath. That was it: they had the route to this great treasure or whatever. And after everything it had taken to get here, he had to follow it.

"We're going to the Black Forest."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue ripped from 5x11 and warning for explicit smut between Hank/nick( man was that difficult to write)

Everyone gaped at him like he was crazy as he uttered those words

"Do you really think that's the best idea?" Hank was the first to voice why that was. "Leaving the country with everything that's going on?"

Nick had been ready for that, however. Though it had been a spur of the moment decision, he already had an argument for why they should go, despite all that was happening.

He opened his mouth to give it, but the sound of someone knocking on the door upstairs interrupted him.

"I'll get that," Rosalee said, jumping from her chair and ascending the stairs to the shop.

While she took care of that, Nick resumed what he had been going to say.

"I know it might not be the smartest idea, but it's something that I think I need to do. After all the people that gave their lives for these keys, don't you want to know where they go?"

He thought he was pretty convincing, and apparently Monroe thought the same because he spoke up in defense.

"I mean,, this could be one of the most important discoveries in history-and it would be better to do it now before Black Claw finds out we got these."  
W

hen no one else gave a rebuttal, Nick declared the matter settled; just as he was about to change the subject, Rosalee returned, Trubel at her heels, diverting his attention.

"Trubel, hey, when did you get back?" 

Trubel tossed him a brief smile.

"Hey. Just an hour ago, actually, and I have something important to tell you." She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a photograph, holding it out for all of them to see. "Someone dangerous just came to Portland. We've connected him to terrorist attacks in London, Kiev, and Japan. We've identified as Marwan Hanano, but we don't know if that's his real name or not. We got word he was on the move from the agent we interrogated after our last mission and tracked him here last night."

Hank's already discomfited expression worsened.

"What's he doing here?"

The female Grimm shrugged.

"We don't know that, either-not yet. But with the election approaching, we're thinking it could be something to do with what Black Claw has planned for Renard."

Hank turned back toward Nick, and Nick had a feeling he knew what he was going to say.

"You still want to leave?"

Trubel whipped toward him at that, startled.

"Wait, you're leaving? Where are you going?"

"The Black Forest," Nick responded, deliberately evading Hank's question and beckoning her over so she would understand why.

As she traipsed to the table, her eyes widened as she noticed the distinctive brass objects on top of it.

"Oh, my god, you found the rest of the keys?"

Nick inclined his head, lips twitching at the obvious shock in her voice.

"We did. Monroe's uncle got these books, and the last two were in the chest with them."

"Oh, yeah, Chione told me about that. I'm sorry about your uncle, Monroe," she offered Monroe her condolences briefly before leaning over to peer at the finished map. "But you can figure out what they unlock now?"

"We can," Nick said, his enthusiasm resurrected. "So far, we've established it's in Wolfach, a village in the Black Forest, but he haven't had a chance to narrow that down yet."

Trubel licked her lips, flattening her palms atop the table and focusing on the map to try and help.

The instant she did, Nick saw a flash of something he couldn't identify in her eyes and the lines on the parchment seemed to shimmer. A shock went up Nick's spine at the same time, while in his head, he saw another image: a steeple, and the buildings that generally sported steeples.

"A church," Trubel suddenly declared, indicating the icon that symbolized a church on the page. "Maybe they buried it in a church."

Monroe's eyes lit.

"That would make sense," he agreed, scanning the lines with a renewed vigour and paying particular attention to those icons. "The Grimms who hid this thing were knights in the Fourth Crusade, fighting for the power and glory of God. They would think a church was safe."

Trubel nodded: that was precisely what Nick had been thinking, too.

And it wasn't his only thought. He and Trubel shared a fervent glance before a strange almost magnetic pull consumed him. There were seven churches in Wolfach according to the map-like the seven Grimms, but they wouldn't have spread it out-and his eyes were tugged, hard, to one in particular.

"That one," he and Trubel announced simultaneously, jabbing their thumbs at the image.

Their companions' heads all snapped toward them, bewildered.

"How do you know?" Monroe wondered, narrowing his eyes to try and see what the Grimms were seeing.

Nick tapped it. At first, he couldn't explain why that church felt like the one, but the longer he looked, he realized there was something unique about it.

"All the other churches have steeples. This one has a cross."

Now that Nick had brought it up, the others seemed to notice that as well; although Monroe ostensibly observed something he hadn't.

"I don't think that's a cross. It's too short." He turned the map to test if changing the angle might help-and it did. "It looks like an 'X'."

"And it's right in Wolfach," Nick added, cementing the notion that that was where they needed to go.

Monroe leapt out of his seat, enlivened.

"X really does mark the spot!" he cried out happily, clapping his hands together. "We got it! I'm coming with you. _Ich spreche Deutsch_ , man. You're gonna need me."

That seemed to jolt Rosalee out of whatever funk she'd been in since Trubel's entrance, and she came back to the table, holding out the paper in her hand.

"Before you go, I think you should see this," she told her husband, consternation evident in her voice.

"What's that?" Monroe asked, glancing at the paper, the beginnings of a frown encroaching on his forehead.

"It's another letter from Tony," Rosalee said, the corners of her mouth turning downward. "And I really don't like what he's saying. Here, listen." She inhaled deeply, then began to read. " 'Dear R, I thought you might write me back after I told you about Carlos dying. Maybe you don't want to hear from me, but I don't know what you think about we used to have together. Thinking of coming to Portland, so hope to see you soon. T.' "

"What?!" Monroe burst out furiously, features shifting again into wariness. "What does this guy want from you? Why would he be contacting you after all this time? There's gotta be a reason."

"Who is this guy?" Nick interjected, concern creeping in as he listened. 

Rosalee sighed, tearing the letter in annoyance.

"He's a guy I used to know in Seattle. He thinks we had a relationship; we didn't. Except for the drugs."

"He's contacted you before?" Nick pried with a frown of his own. This was a new, and rather unwelcome wrinkle-one that couldn't be a coincidence.

"A couple of days ago," Rosalee nodded, huffing as she tossed the shreds of paper aside. "He said he was writing to tell me another _acquaintanc_ e of ours was dead, but-,"

"Did it occur to you that he might be Black claw?" Nick suggested, cutting her off and stepping forward. "He could be writing you to trick you into revealing something about me or into joining them."

"That's what I said," Monroe stabbed his finger into the air, his hackles perceptibly rising.

"And what if Black Claw knows that the keys were in that trunk, and that you might want to go after this treasure or whatever? They could be having this guy come to Portland now because they know Nick won't be here to interfere," Trubel added direly,diverting her focus from the map-though only partially.

Nick let out a measured breath, factoring all of this into his decision. He was worried about Rosalee, too, and he didn't want to take Monroe away from her if this Tony guy was coming after her. That said, he was certain he would need Monroe also; he was the foremost authority on the Black Forest, and he was the only one of Nick's friends who spoke German.

He could tell Monroe was torn, but it was the very thing that was worrying him that presented the solution,

"Black Claw shouldn't know that we have the trunk. The guys they sent for it are dead," he reasoned-and just in case that wasn't enough, he amended. "But just in case, we can see about leaving you with some protection, Rosalee."

That seemed to alleviate Monroe's tension somewhat; but Trubel raised another issue.

"And you guys shouldn't go as you. Black Claw knows who you are-they'll be watching."

Nick altered his plans again. Right. He knew that. He and Monroe would have to go incognito.

"HW could probably get us some fake passports, right" Nick asked her, and when she shrugged again, he set his jaw. "We'll go to them, and try to work out some security here. Black Claw won't know we've gone, and if that Tony guys shows, you'll be protected."

"And Hank and I will watch out for this Marwan Hanano," Wu put in supportively. "You can count on us, Nick."

Trubel couldn't seem to find any other flaws with his plan because she stayed silent-as, curiously, did Hank, while Monroe went to reassure his wife.

"So, when are we going?" he queried, his arm around Rosalee's shoulders.

"Tomorrow," Nick resolved, knowing that if they put if off, they'd only find more reasons not to go. "First flight we can get."

Monroe looked back at Rosalee, probably checking if she was okay with that, and to Nick's relief, she nodded.

"I'll be okay," she said bravely, embracing her husband.

The Blutbaden hugged her back tightly, then met Nick's gaze over the top of her head.

"I'll make the flight arrangements."

"I'll talk to Chavez, see about getting you those passports," Trubel said, and Nick shot her a grateful smile: if she had further misgivings, she kept them to herself.

"Thanks. I'll pick them up tomorrow."  
"All right. Looks like we're going on a crusade," Monroe commented, his zeal returning now all the issues had been addressed.

Nick couldn't suppress a laugh; a crusade was exactly what had started this.

* * *

He also couldn't help but notice how quiet Hank had gone, how he didn't seem to share everyone else's enthusiasm-but didn't want to dampen it for them.

After they finalized their plans and separated to pack and rest, he and Hank returned home-Nick was already starting to consider Hank's home-which was where Hank finally verbalized his distress.

"Are you really going to do this, Nick?" he demanded once they were inside, anxiety written into every line of his broad form. "From what you've told me, your aunt was killed over these keys. I don't want that to happen to you."

"It won't," Nick promised, striding over to Hank. He understood why his partner was afraid; he knew he couldn't make that vow with 100% conviction, but he needed Hank to know he would do everything he could to keep it. "You know I won't be going alone-and I need to do this, Hank. I owe it to Aunt Marie and everyone else who died for this. I need to know it wasn't for nothing."

Hank stared at him, long and hard; Nick hoped he understood why this was important, why he couldn't wait until things calmed down on the Black Claw front.

"Okay," Hank's features finally softened in surrender, his shoulders slumping. "But, just in case, something does happen, I don't want you to go without me telling you something." He paused, sighing and lifting a hand to Nick's cheek. "I love you, Nick."

Nick caught his breath, his cheeks flushing at the sentiment. He'd known that Hank felt that way-it was in everything he did recently-but it was the first time he'd said it aloud. Honestly, he hadn't thought Hank would be the first to say it; since he had, however, Nick was all too happy to return it.

"I love you, too," he whispered his own fingers sliding across Hank's neck to draw him down into a kiss.

Even though he initiated it, it still made his heart race just like every time before. But this was different than every time before: less rushed than when they'd been sneaking around, and more tender than the other night when they first stopped. It was an entirely new kind-one that Nick loved.

Especially when Hank took control, his mouth caressing Nick's slow and sweet, eliciting a low groan. He could feel their hearts pounding in sync, feel Hank's breath growing ragged against his lips as they pressed more firmly against one another, and it overrode everything else.

The touch of Hank's tongue meeting his own, as always, made his mouth burn; he opened it immediately, inviting Hank further in and Hank took the invitation, exploring the now familiar territory even slower.

When he began walking them toward his-their-bedroom, Nick was surprised, but he didn't resist. He allowed Hank to grip his hips and guide him back onto the bed, legs hooking over Hank's waist to take him with him.

Hank went willingly also, covering Nick's body with his own and latching onto his neck. Nick threw his head back as he laved a trail of scorching kisses down his jawline, the sensation driving all his blood south.

" _Hank_ ," he hissed, wrestling himself out of his jacket as heat consumed him, becoming uncomfortably stifling. When Hank did this to him, it was more intense than any time before, and it made him crave more.

He fisted his hands in Hank's coat, then, shoving at it and indicating he wanted it off. He didn't need to; Hank was already in the process of shedding it himself, tossing it over the side of the bed before returning his hands to Nick's hips.

Nick bucked them upward and inching his fingers inside Hank's shirt to clutch at his lower back. He felt his partner give another sharp intake of breath at his boldness, his own hips jerking, grinding into Nick's involuntarily.

The friction was...Nick didn't even have a word to describe it. His jeans were getting increasingly tight, the no doubt noticeable bulge there stiffening even more. He gasped into Hank's mouth, nails sinking into his back and shoving at his shirt more insistently; he wanted-no, he needed to feel skin.

His action got the message across and Hank abandoned his throbbing pulsepoint to permit him to tug the article over his head. Nick did so, then lifted his arms so Hank could return the favour before curling a hand around the back of his neck to drag him forward once more.

Their mouths collided a second time, hotter and messier, as they roamed each other's torso. Nick gasped again when Hank's hand met his abdomen, tracing floating ribs and teasing at the waistband of his jeans.

His nails bit into Hank's forearms, hips jerking, chasing the contact. His arousal strained almost painfully, and currents of electricity raced all over him, especially low in his belly. He couldn't think past the lust fogging his brain.

Which only got worse as Hank continued to skim across his stomach, bringing his sensitivity over the top. It felt like Hank was touching him everywhere at once, stoking every nerve in his body; it felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before-with anyone.

When Hank's fingers curled in the buckle of his belt, he arched his lower half encouragingly. This time, Hank understood what he wanted right away; he undid it, pulling the length of leather through the loops and unzipping his fly.

Nick bent further off the bed, shifting his legs so Hank could remove his pants while he drug his mouth over Hank's chin and nipped at the cleft. Simultaneously, he went for Hank's belt, unbuckling it deftly; Hank joined him in pushing his pants off, leaving them both in just their underwear.

Hank took full advantage of Nick's new state of undress, nipping and kissing a path down the center of his chest. His tongue flicked at Nick's nipple, sending shockwaves into the pit of his stomach and dragging yet another hoarse gasp from his throat.

" _Fuck_ ," he couldn't restrain a curse; that was the first time Hank had done that, and it had his toes curling against the sheets.

Hank gave an uncharacteristically husky chuckle; though the sound was familiar now, having it vibrate against his bare flesh evoked another hiss from Nick. It didn't help, either, when Hank descended lower, teeth scraping at his middle.

He arched sharply, gripping Hank's arms even tighter. this was more than they'd done previously, and it was unbelievably enticing, getting him rock hard; The consolation was, he could tell Hank was, too.

The sight of Hank hovering over the tent in his boxers nearly had him losing it, but he held back-if only to appreciate the visual.

Hank's mouth was quirked slightly, giving him that sly, unfamiliarly salacious grin-his eyes, in contrast, were hooded, roving over Nick's probably flushed form with what he was only just able to identify as hunger-because he rarely saw it. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd only begun seeing it recently.

"You look good like this, Nick," his partner murmured in that thready, husky voice he'd heard only once before. His nose brushed the patch of skin below Nick's navel, prompting Nick to bite his bottom lip. "I didn't think I'd ever get to you see this way. I didn't think i'd ever get to be with you like this."

More than turning him on, that statement made Nick almost melt. Just as he hadn't expected Hank to say I love you first, he hadn't expected him to admit that-and certainly not in this context. It definitely emphasized how much he meant what he'd said earlier.

That, in turn, pushed Nick to reach for Hank, drawing him back up so he could divest him of his underwear. Hank was clearly thrown, but he recovered, meeting Nick's hazy eyes, watching for any resistance as he did the same.

Nick ensured his gaze conveyed only eagerness, and Hank rid him of the offending garment, then leaned back to observe him. He'd seen Hank naked before-well sort of-but that had been vastly different in both location and view. Hank was right here, looming above him, dark skin glistening with sweat and eyes simmering as they traveled over him.

He was staring back, drinking in every inch of him. Hank was broader than he appeared when clothed, bigger than Nick imagined and his eyes widened. Hank must have thought in hesitation because he stroked Nick's flank and said, "Do you want to stop? If you do, all you have to do is say so."

"No, I-," Nick shook his head hastily, sucking in a lungful of air to help think past his thundering pulse. He definitely didn't want to stop; on the contrary, he wanted to take this all the way. "Hank, I-I want you to make love to me."

Hank's gaze also widened.

"Do you-Are you sure?" he questioned seriously, voice gentle, letting Nick know it was okay if he wasn't, if he was just caught up in the moment and didn't mean it.

He did, though.

"Yes," Nick breathed vehemently, smoothing his palms over Hank's chest and pulling him back in. "I-I've been thinking about this since before I lost my powers, and I want to know what it's like-with you."

Hank paused again, cupping his face in both hands and scanning it; Nick's features showed only certainty. He wanted this, more than anything.

"Okay," Hank consented, convinced. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Nick's mouth, stretching over him to rummage in the nightstand for a small blue bottle.

Nick's cheeks reddened more as he saw Hank pop the bottle open and squeeze some of the clear gel onto three of his fingers. 

He felt the slick digits skate along the insides of his thighs, prodding at his rim. It was a foreign sensation, but not unpleasant; actually, it was kind of exciting. This was really happening, and instead of making him nervous, it had him spreading his legs more.

He saw Hank's expression deepen, a combination of desire and rapture at seeing Nick undone, utterly exposed and utterly unabashed. His muscles grew taut, as if he was restraining himself, his fingers practically trembling as he pushed one inside.

Nick hissed, clutching Hank's shoulders nearly hard enough to bruise, tensing instinctively against the intrusion. His inner muscles clenched around the blunt appendage, trying to force it out, but Nick steeled himself to relax. There was the slightest bit of pain, but Nick knew that was part of it, and Hank was clearly doing his best to keep it to a minimum.

Hank stilled at that first finger, giving Nick time to become accustomed to it. Fortunately, it didn't take much time, Nick spurred by the promise of what came next, and he pushed back, prompting Hank to move. He thrust his finger in and out of Nick's hole, and Nick blew out another heavy rush of air. There was the stretch, the burn, things Nick didn't think he'd ever experience, things that sent more shocks jarring through his spine, but they were oddly..good. Nick found he actually liked it.

He liked it enough to want more-which he got. Hank inserted a second finger, scissoring the two together gradually, eliciting a strangled whine from Nick's mouth and causing his head to thrash into the pillows.  
" _Hank_."

"Okay?" Hank checked softly, lips ghosting over his ear as he halted again.

But not for long. Nick almost instantly nodded, pushing into his fingers forcefully and tightening his hold on his arm.

"Yeah. I'm great. Keep going-please."

Hank obeyed, and Nick's voice fractured as he resumed his ministrations, working his fingers deeper, harder and brushing against something that had stars blossoming before Nick's eyes, his spine bending spasmodically. He knew what it was, but that didn't stop him from whining even more embarassingly in desperation.

Hank smiled, no doubt catching what he'd found, and he slipped in a third digit, rubbing at that spot repeatedly.

Nick couldn't breathe with the arousal that evoked, and the need that pulsed inside him.

"Hank, please. It's enough," he urged wantonly, shifting his hips. "Please just do it."

The elder withdrew his fingers, Nick keening involuntarily at the loss. He saw Hank grin as he squirted more lube onto his hand and ran it over his own erection before positioning himself at Nick's entrance.

Nick sucked in another breath at Hank edging inside, the alien fullness, the scrape of skin against skin. The sting of it sprung tears at the corners of his eyes, but they were soon soothed by Hank's forehead pressing to his.

"Still okay?" he inquired, freezing at once to let Nick adjust, laying another gentle kiss to his jaw.

Nick flexed his fingers at Hank's bicep, tilting his head to let Hank claim his mouth briefly. He couldn't deny that it hurt-more than Hank's fingers had, naturally-however, it didn't deter him. He still wanted Hank; if anything happened while he was in Germany, to either of them, he wanted to have this to hold onto.

"Yes," he panted, lured by Hank's weight on top of him, and the desire that was superseding the ache. " _Move_."

He heard Hank laugh quietly and strainedly, revealing how much this really affected him. If Nick had been able to focus, he would have seen the sweat breaking out on Hank's forehead, that there were tremors rattling him as he gingerly pulled out, nearly withdrawing completely before pushing back in.

" _Ungh_ ," Nick groaned throatily, more shockwaves at his spine _the drag the sharing of air the momentary emptiness and the return of that delicious fullness_. Heat rolled over him like flames, and Nick's head thrashed back, knuckles growing white.

"Fuck, Hank." It was becoming a chant, a litany of his partner's name bursting from his swollen lips, a little more fractured each repetition.

His whole body shook as Hank mounted another thrust, his breath coming out in similarly uneven puffs against Nick's mouth. Groans emitted from both of them, losing themselves in the steady rhythm Hank built and the tangling of their limbs.

Nick's legs wrapped around Hank's waist, pulling him in further, hips jerking to meet his every thrust. Hank was consuming him, and he couldn't stop it-he didn't want to, not even when he kept pushing him so close to the edge.

" _Nick_ ," Hank grunted into his mouth, snaking a hand in between them to seize Nick's erection and beginning to pump him in time with his movements.

Nick's grip on his arms grew vise-like as, right then, Hank hit that spot inside of him a second time, and he gave a broken cry, jerking almost violently.

He constricted around Hank, inadvertently pushing both of them nearer and nearer. And as his vision turned white once more, his heels dig into Hank's back, tensing in preparation for falling off.

Which he did in only one, two, three more strokes over his leaking shaft; he emitted another strangled cry, spurting into Hank's fingers.

As he clenched even harder, Hank gave another grunt, his thrusts becoming rapid and erratic until his own orgasm was torn from him. He muffled his exclamation in the crook of Nick's neck, warmth flooding Nick's insides.

Hank collapsed on top of him once he was spent, and Nick slumped under, caressing his back as they both gradually came down from their high. Nick's heart was still racing, but it was steadily returning to normal. That had been...amazing-even more amazing than he'd imagined it. Hank felt so good, and he suspected it might have been even greater since he'd severed all ties with Juliette prior; it wouldn't have felt as real if he'd still been with someone else.

Hank seemed reluctant to move afterward; Nick kind of hated having to break apart, too, but they couldn't stay like that forever.

Hank didn't let go entirely, however, still remaining in place, hands at his sides.

"How do you feel?' he queried gently, now obviously looking for hints of regret or pain,

Nick felt neither of those things, however; well, he felt a little of the latter, but not enough to make him feel the former.

"Great." He smiled so Hank would see he was being sincere. "I'm really glad we did this, Hank. It was even better than I thought it would be."

Hank's features were relieved, and he pecked Nick's cheek before getting up and heading down the hall into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth to clean them off. Once that had been taken care of, he climbed back under the covers, taking Nick into his arms.

"It was for me, too," he admitted tenderly, returning the smile. 

Nick was content as he rested his head on Hank's chest and closed his eyes. He would never forget this: it would remind him of what he had to come back to while he was in Germany.

* * *

Unfortunately, the contentment couldn't last. When Nick woke, still in Hank's embrace and with the steady beat of his pule under his ear, for a brief instant it remained, and he basked in it. The afterglow, the warmth blooming in his chest and the for once utterly unlined state of Hank's rugged features-it was all perfect.

He hated to break the spell, but he had to. He had to prepare for his trip, which would entail quite a few tasks. He didn't even know yet what time they would be leaving, but it had to be soon-the sooner, the less time there was for Black Claw to realize they were going.

He sighed regretfully, then started to inch out of the cage of Hank's arms; his sigh turned into a wince at the twinge he felt in his body the second he moved. It wasn't unexpected, given how... _enthusiastic_ he and Hank had been the previous night-but it was new-it wasn't something he'd thought he'd ever experience.

Oddly though, it wasn't a bad thing. He actually kind of liked the physical memento of their activities; the wince had just been instinctive.

His motion roused Hank from his slumber, prompting him to open his eyes and give Nick a sleepy smile.

"Morning," he greeted Nick softly, reaching out and arresting his efforts to leave their bed. "What time is it?"

Nick hummed uncertainly, allowing himself to be tugged back onto the mattress.

"I don't know, but it's probably best we start prepping. I have a lot to do before I leave," he replied, even as he entwined their fingers.

Hank lowered his mouth to Nick's again before nodding resignedly.

"I know." He moved off Nick so the younger could rise, and got up as well. "What time do you think you're going?"

Nick shrugged, tugging on his boxers.

"Well, first we're going to have to see about getting those passports form HW and talk to them about Rosalee."

"What about this Hanano guy? Shouldn't we try to find him? I mean if he's really as dangerous as Trubel said, he can't be here for a vacation," Hank pointed out with a rather unnerving switch in tone.

Nick halted midway to the door, his smile dissipating. He did know that leaving when Hanano was here wasn't really safe, but he didn't want to put this off, either.

That really only left one alternative.

"We're gonna have to tell Renard about him, I think. We can have the force watching for him, and maybe they can get a line on what he's up to. After that, though, I think I'm going to have to dump it on you and Wu."

Nick didn't have to look to tell that Hank probably wasn't too keen on that-and probably still wasn't that cool with him leaving-but having failed to change his mind already, he abandoned his efforts and accepted the task.

"All right. We got you," he told Nick resolutely. "Do you want me to come to HW with you?"

"I would," Nick consented, glancing at Hank over his shoulder. "Then, we can take whatever they have on Hanano to the precinct before I head out."

"Okay, then." Hank fell into step behind Nick, and they both left to bathe and get ready to make the trip to HW.

* * *

The headquarters were bustling as Nick and Hank walked in, and Nick wondered if it was to do with this Hanano guy.

He didn't have to ask because as soon as they entered the ops centre, it was answered by the fact that the photo of Hanano was on the projector-along with what appeared to be some sort of timeline.

Trubel, Chavez, and Meisner were all there, the latter two deep in discussion in front of the screen while the former typed diligently on one of the computers. Their leader's attention was diverted, though, upon hearing the gate opening, and she cut off her conversation to address the new arrivals.

"Detective," she greeted formally. "Ms. Rubel informed me you would be stopping by, and for what purpose." She strode over to the table where Trubel sat, removing a couple of documents from the pile of folders covering its surface and extending them to Nick. "Passports for you and Monroe for your trip."

Nick took the proferred items and examined them critically. They'd given him a name not too dissimilar from his own, while Monroe would be traveling under his uncle's, Felix Dietrich, and they'd managed to make the documents look completely real. If Nick didn't know they were fake, he'd swear they were.

"This is really good-for something completely illegal," he couldn't refrain from commenting on the irony as he pocketed them. "Thanks."

Chavez inclined her head, then added. "She also apprised me of the possible danger to your friend, Mrs. Calvert." She beckoned to two agents in the corner of the chamber who Nick hadn't noticed before, but one of whom he recognized when he saw her face. "We will have these two guard her, as well as agents on standby in Wolfach in case you require assistance."

Nick turned toward Valentina and her companion. He knew he could trust her, but the man was a total stranger.

Although apparently he recognized Rosalee's name.

"Mrs. Calvert and I have someone in common," he piped up, revealing a slight accent that Nick thought might be African.

Nick lifted an eyebrow, mildly intrigued. "Oh?"

The man removed his hood, and blue-gray eyes locked guilelessly with Nick's; Meisner was the one to fill him in.

"Nathaniel here is the one who saved your Wesen council contact from being killed."

"Alexander," Nick did a double take as he mentally connected the dots. Rosalee had told him about this man-including a particularly interesting tidbit. "You're the Grimm who rescued him."

The man-Nathaniel-nodded.

"I am. And I know you, Mr. Burkhardt. You've inspired my generation of Grimms to work with Wesen instead of against them-which is why I hope you trust I won't let anything happen to your friend."

Nick had to avert his gaze at the admiration in this other Grimm's tone; that did help him have more faith in him. He doubted this man would be here if he was faking.

And Trubel helped, too, interjecting. "I'll be here, too, Nick. I'll mainly be working on Hanano, but you know I won't say no if Rosalee needs me."  
T

hat comforted Nick, and also provided a logical segue into the other topic he'd come to discuss.

"Speaking of, where are you with that?" he questioned, ambling toward her to see what she was working on. "The rest of the city is hardly safe while he's out there."

Trubel inhaled, expression darkening as she spread her palms.

"We know, but we haven't been able to find a trace of him since he arrived. Chione's out scouting, but clearly he knows how to stay invisible. We do now he came from Quito, Ecuador, and that since he's arrived, Black Claw has gone strangely quiet in Portland."

Nick's brows furrowed. That didn't bode well.

"Well, maybe we can lend a hand," Hank proposed, side-eyeing Meisner and Chavez. "We can have put out on alert, have every cop in the city looking for him."

Their leader wasn't immediately forthcoming with acquiescence, likely because of their prior hints that the police department might be compromised. Nick had the same misgivings-particularly toward Renard-but if HW wasn't having any luck on their own, they had little choice.

"Very well," Chavez submitted, gesturing to Trubel, who then stood and retrieved the photo of Marwan she'd shown them the previous night. "You may tell your Captain, but-,"

"Be selective about telling him where it comes from," Nick predicted what her warning would be. "Don't worry. We got it."

Chavez tilted her head a second time, then held the photo out for him to take.

"Thank you."

Nick deemed her thanks unnecessary, since they shared the same concerns. Instead, he redirected his focus to the picture he now held, scrutinizing the man it depicted. With his thinning, side-swept hair, and unmarred brownish skin, he didn't look like a terrorist; but, as nick had learned, appearances could be deceiving.

His phone rang, then, and when he saw Rosalee's name on the screen. he answered it right away.

"Hey, Rosalee?"

" _Hey Nick. Monroe got you guys on the noon flight to Suttgart with one stop in Frankfurt,_ " Rosalee notified him.

" _And Stuttgart's only like a 2-hour ride to Wolfach_ ," he heard Monroe shout in the background as if he were speaking from a distance.

Nick's lips twitched.

"Great. I got the passports, and I'm packed. I just have to stop at the precinct, so I can be at your place in like two hours?"

" _Sounds good_ ," Monroe called into the speaker. " _I'm just packing now, so i'll be ready_."

"See you soon," Nick finished, hanging up and turning to Hank. "We are on a flight at noon."

Hank sighed, clearly displeased. Nick could see his indecision like earlier about whether to fake happy or to give one last shot to persuade him not to go.

"Wish I was going with you," Trubel took the choice from him, wistfully returning to her chair and slumping with her arms crossed.

Nick caught Hank looking as if that were precisely what he'd been about to say; it was to both of them that he directed his next words.

"I wish you were, too, but someone's gotta find this guy-and i'm sure I, and Monroe will feel better knowing you're here watching out for him and Rosalee."

Trubel and Hank looked at each other as Nick passed the picture over, the former unfolding her arms and looking a little less depressed.

"Gonna make sure this goes out. i'll let you know when we got something," Hank declared, sliding the photo into his jacket with a nod in her direction.

"Take care," Meisner advised, facing Nick. "Our agents will be keeping an eye on you, but Germany is a bit out of our jurisdiction. We are trying to change that with the aid of our new _allies_ ," Here, a muscle in his jaw jumped, and Nick knew he was talking about the Royals. "But we can't count on them."

"Are you going to tell them about this?" Nick queried shrewdly. He still didn't trust this Kenneth much, therefore he'd rather he not know what he was doing until he was certain he could.

Meisner deferred to Chavez, who hesitated.

"They've promised us transparency, and thus they have upheld that promise. It would only be right to do the same, but...I'll leave it up to you. He and his Verrat are already watching for Hanano, so you may run into them."

Nick pursed his lips. If it came to it, he knew what he would do.

"Okay, thanks." He gestured to Hank that it was time to go. "I'll keep you posted."

"Watch your back, Nick," Trubel called just before they departed, and Nick looked back at her over his shoulder.

"You, too, Trubel-all of you," he returned the advice. though he hadn't known most of these people that long, he'd come to consider them all at the very least friends. He believed in their cause, and he didn't want to see them get hurt.

* * *

That was an issue still present as they headed into the precinct to inform the Captain about Hanano. He was wary, as always, of bringing Renard into HW's business; but if they wanted the police to be aware of this, they had to go through him.

Naturally, before he agreed to the APB, he wanted more details.

"Is Marwan Hanano his real name or an alias?" Renard inquired after he'd taken a good look at the photograph.

"We don't know," Nick responded, shrugging. HW hadn't been able to establish that, so they couldn't say.

Renard set the picture down on his desk, then met the detective's gaze with his typical flinty expression.

"Where'd you get this information?"

"Meisner; he thought we should know there's a Wesen terrorist working for Black Claw loose in Portland," Hank said. "We don't know where he is, what he wants, or who his contacts are."

"I'm assuming Meisner wants us to find him so your new friends can deal with him," Renard surmised.

"Basically, yeah," Nick confirmed, translating the euphemism without much difficulty

Renard paused, contemplating-probably-the wises course of action. He had to understand how crucial this was:Nick thought since Renard and Meisner had both been with the Resistance, the fact that he was involved would impress upon him the seriousness.

Obviously, something did, because he finally relented.

"All right, put out the APB, but strictly a find and follow. Do not engage. Report contact only." He passed the picture back. "You know how to contact Meisner?"

"We do."

"Let's find this guy," Renard concluded assertively.

"Yes, sir," Hank complied dutifully; but Nick was sure he detected a hint of sarcasm there-and he could tell from the look in Hank's eyes the reason behind it. With Renard's possible ties to Black Claw, following his command was becoming rather dubious.

He hid it from Renard, though, his face deceptively neutral as he exited the office to talk to Wu, leaving Nick alone with Renard.

Nick leaned forward.

"I'm gonna be off the grid for a couple of days," he informed the Captain lowly. He had to tell the Captain that much; he didn't have to tell him why.

Of course, Renard would ask.

"Anything I should know?" 

"I don't know yet." What Nick meant was he didn't know if he wanted to tell him yet. Fortunately, Renard didn't press.

"Okay," he seemed to accept, and permitted him to leave also-which he did, going over to Hank and Wu before he went to the airport.

"So, what charge we gonna use for the APB?" Hank asked him as he approached.

"Murder suspect," Nick decided almost instantly, thinking that would be the best bet to justify the find and follow only. "Keep it local. If Chavez hasn't gotten the feds involved we shouldn't either." he checked his watch, and seeing it was nearly time for his flight, he wrapped up. "i have to go. Sorry to leave this with you."

"It's fine." Wu waved away his apology. He-and Nick-saw Hank turn, his features intensifying at Nick's statement and he cleared his throat. "I'll let you two say goodbye. Have a safe trip, Nick."

Nick nodded, and Wu went to put out the APB while Nick's attention centered on Hank, who then stood.

For an instant, neither of them spoke, Hank visibly struggling with how to send Nick off. Nick saw more emotion flit across his face in that instant than he had...ever.

"Be careful," Hank finally settled on, dropping his voice to a pitch that spoke volumes. He angled his head so he could brush his lips over Nick's-not caring if anyone saw-before adding, "I meant what I said last night. I love you."

Nick's chest swelled. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of hearing that.

"I love you, too," he responded, squeezing the back of Hank's neck. He wasn't bothered if anyone saw them or not, either; all he cared about was Hank. "And don't worry. I'll see you when we get back. Don't miss me too much."

Hank snorted, and though it was clearly one of the hardest things he'd done, he let Nick pull away giving him a last squeeze before he walked out the precinct doors, bound to the airport.

Hopefully, this 'crusade' wouldn't turn out like the others.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg this is gonna be 100k words soon  
> dialogue ripped form 5x12 and 5x11 sorta warnings for violence and death(not any major chars)(and the beginning of Renard's downfall muahahaha god i hate renard)

With Nick gone, Hank found it rather...trying, concentrating on work. He knew he had to, that finding this Hanano was his job while Nick was away, yet he couldn't keep his mind from worrying about whether or not Nick was okay.

He forced himself not to think that way, and to turn it to the matter at hand. What was this Black Claw operative doing here?Considering his past, it had to be for something drastic.

Hank's gaze flicked toward Renard's office, wondering if Trubel was right, that Marwan was somehow tied into their plans for the Captain, and if so, what was his role? Was Renard aware of who he was working with?

"Hey," Wu interrupted his thoughts, approaching his desk purposefully with his jacket on. "Two bicycle cops spotted Marwan."

Hank looked up abruptly, alarmed.

"Where?"

"Lovejoy Fountain Park," Wu supplied, piquing something in Hank's memory. 

"Isn't that where the political rally is being held today?" he said, brows furrowing.

Wu's expression mirrored his.  
\

"The Captain would know. Should we ask him?"

Hank paused, hesitating like Nick generally did when faced with telling Renard something. That would be the simplest route, but they were already taking a risk informing him about Marwan at all-Hank didn't want to give him anymore unless they had to.

"HW should know, too," he raised an alternative, taking out his encrypted phone and getting to his feet. "Trubel mentioned it, so they're probably aware of what's going on in the election-more than us, anyways."

He was proven right a second later when Chavez replied to his text.

' _Political rally is at park. Sending agents in for reinforcement._ '

"We've got to get down there," he declared, the confirmation spurring him into action. Wu didn't argue, falling in behind him as he descended into the garage.

They both got into Wu's squad car, hastening to the aforementioned location. About halfway there, however, Hank's personal cell rang.

"Griffin," he answered professionally without checking the ID.

It turned out to be dispatch. " _We have an assault on an officer near Source Fountain. His partner is the one who responded to your APB._ "

Hank's frown deepened, this time in suspicion.

"How bad is he hurt?"

_"Paramedics aren't certain of the extent of his injuries yet, but there was a lot of blood. The officer was pretty out of it when he was found."_

"Okay, we're on our way. Thanks," Hank took the phone from his ear and addressed Wu. "The officer who called in the sighting of Marwan, their partner was just attacked."

Wu glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"By Marwan?"

Hank shook his head.

"They didn't say, but it happened just a few blocks from the park, so my money's on yes."

"Was the officer killed?"

"No, it was reported as an assault."

Wu reversed his direction, steering them toward the site of the assault instead of the main square.

There was already quite the clamour around the location; crime scene tape was being erected, and the officer's partner was being held to wait for them.

"Where's the officer?" Hank asked as he and Wu exited their vehicle, smoothing his frown into appear more comforting.

The uniform who'd handled the scene gestured to the woman in the bright jacket by one of the columns nearby. "Right over there."

Hank and Wu followed his indication, the sergeant speaking first once they reached her.

"What happened?"

"My partner, Officer Fogel spotted the suspect. Tailed him while I called it in," the woman explained, voice shaking slightly. "When I couldn't get Fogel on the radio, I started looking, and by the time I got here, Fogel was covered in blood."

"Did he describe his attacker?" the sergeant interrogated further.

That was when the officer's features shifted into lines of consternation.

"He was yelling about some monster thing attacking him," she stated, causing both her interviewers to glance at each other. When she saw them, she obviously assumed they were thinking her partner was crazy and rushed to his defense. "I mean, he was obviously in shock."

Hank wasn't so sure. That sounded like the attacker had Woge'd, lending more credibility to the theory that it was Marwan. But if it was, and he had Woge'd, why had he left the officer alive? And where did he go?

"Did you see the suspect you were following leave the area?" he questioned.

"No, he was already gone when I arrived," the officer shook her head helplessly.

"Is this the man you saw?" Hank pressed, opening a snapshot of the photo of Marwan on his phone to show her.

"That's the guy we were following. I don't know if that's who attacked my partner," she replied in the same tone. She fidgeted restlessly. "I'd really like to get to the hospital to check on him, if that's all right."

Hank exhaled, replacing his phone in his pocket. He didn't think she had much more to offer, and they could always find her again if they needed; he was already on the next matter. 

"Yeah, go ahead," he dismissed the woman. She left, and Hank turned to Wu. "Marwan must have known he was made."

Wu appeared to share his view, and voiced the same question he'd had. "Why didn't he kill Fogel?"

Now he'd had time to consider, Hank was pretty sure he knew.

"That would have put the whole city on him," he reasoned. Marwan wouldn't have wanted that kind of heat, especially if his mission was to kill someone. But the question was still who was he after? Was it someone at the rally? 

Wu bit the inside of his cheek.

"You think HW knows? I mean, they said they were sending reinforcement-,"

"And we're here," a familiar female voice interrupted him, and Hank's head turned in time to see a distinctive woman wrapped in a mottled green cloak making for them.

"Chione," he greeted her cordially. He wasn't surprised by her presence; he remembered Trubel mentioning she was scouting for Marwan. "Did you see what happened?"

"No; but our mutual friends told me when the report came in, and I wasn't that far," she said in an unusually businesslike manner. "Marwan still has to be here, though. I still sense him in the area."

The two men's eyes widened. The detective was still baffled and astounded by her powers, but he didn't have time to marvel or pick at them today. They needed answers.

"Can you sense his exact location?"

Chione didn't respond immediately, casting her gaze around in careful scrutiny. Hank started when her eyes suddenly flashed an unearthly shade of violet.

"Close," she said, her voice becoming unnervingly magnified. "He's inside a building with lots of rooms and many levels, on one of the uppermost floors."

Hank scanned the perimeter as well for a building that matched her description. From the 'lots of rooms' part, he thought it sounded like a residential one, and there were some apartments that overlooked the square. Perhaps Marwan was in one of them.

"Let's check the surveillance of those apartments," he instructed Wu, who nodded and started back tot heir vehicle. He addressed Chione next. "Do you know what part of the park the rally is being held in?"

Chione's eyes abruptly reverted back to their usual-but still rather inhuman-silvery green and her voice was once more its lilting baritone when she replied. "In the center a few blocks over. I believe they're preparing as we speak. Your Captain is there."

"We have to tell him," Hank told her. His eyes darted back to the apartments. "You can see right into that section from those balconies."

"I'll sweep them. Keep in touch," the cloaked woman advised; without waiting for his agreement, she swiveled around and glided away.

Hank departed, then, following Wu to the car. He felt slightly better knowing Chione was involved; though she was still a relative stranger, she'd done nothing to make him mistrust her. On the contrary, she'd saved their lives, and proven to share the same beliefs as them. 

Trubel seemed to trust her, too, so that made Hank more confident.

Speaking of, he was glad Trubel would be on this, too. Having another Grimm involved could only be an asset since Nick was otherwise occupied.

* * *

The female Grimm was growing increasingly disheartened as she continued her search for Marwan through the computer in HW's ops centre. She'd caught the response to the APB, and the assault, but hadn't been able to pinpoint where he'd gone after that, and with the rally looming, it was becoming more and more urgent that she succeed.

This whole thing was putting her extremely on edge; she had a bad feeling about the timing of Marwan's arrival, and his attacking that officer at Source Fountain-there was no way any of this was coincidence. Black Claw's operation had to have something to do with the rally.

As another hour passed with no luck, her phone buzzed with a message.

"What is it?" Meisner heard the notification, and peered over her shoulder to glimpse the device.

Trubel unlocked it and opened the message, scanning it. "It's from Chione. She got a beat on Marwan: there are some apartment buildings near where that officer was attacked, and she thinks he's in one of them."

Meisner's thick brows lifted as he pondered that development. Trubel couldn't read his face, but she had a feeling they were thinking the same thing: Marwan was still in the area although he'd been made. That had to mean his job was there.

"Everywhere he's been was during times of major political upheaval," he contemplated aloud, obviously trying to guess what it was.

Trubel tilted her head to the side. That tracked with current events, except...

"Yeah, but a mayoral election in Portland? That seems kinda small time compared to Black Claw's usual targets," she disputed, brows creasing-and not only in confusion. She could feel something else, a faint inexplicable sensation that started out a tingle, but seemed to be steadily escalating into a tugging.

"Unless he's targeting someone in the crowd," Chavez interrupted, worry flitting across her dark features. "Or someone on the stage."

"It could be Dixon," Trubel suggested, trying to stay focused. However, that feeling she was getting prevented her from seeing the holes in that theory for a moment. "Except why would they want to kill a candidate? And why would Renard help? He's been supporting him this whole time."

Her superiors shared a dire glance, and she thought she could tell what it meant. Just because it didn't make sense to them didn't mean it wasn't true. Dixon could be the target; he needed protection.

There was a disconcertingly pregnant pause, during which they seemed to grapple with how to act on this information. Only one of their goals here was protecting someone such as Dixon-they needed to catch Marwan so they could find out who his contacts were. Clearly, they were having trouble-the other trouble- deciding which took precedence.

Trubel stood, prepared to give her opinion-whether they wanted it or not-but was diverted by that sensation exploding in her chest, like hooks in her heart. It didn't hurt, per se-it was as if something was calling to her, something trying to fill a space she hadn't even noticed-but it did take her breath away.

Her eyes darted around wildly to locate the source, but nothing in her vicinity felt right. It felt further away, as if it wasn't something close to her, but to someone else.

It felt like magic.

Meisner must have noticed her gasp and he rounded the table, rushing to her side.

"Are you all right?" he asked, actually sounding worried.

Trubel shook herself, attempting to regain her breath. The tugging was abating, or at least receding to a more manageable level. She still dearly wanted to find the source, but she knew that wasn't a possibility at present. There was too much going on.

"I'm fine," she assured him, straightening with a palm pressed to her chest. "I just felt something weird, that's all. It's not as important as this-we need to send someone to Dixon if he's Hanano's target."

Meisner's eyes narrowed at her, scepticism warring with his instinct to remain on task in them. He clearly didn't believe she was okay, but evidently, the latter won out.

"We can't send Chione. We need her abilities on finding and apprehending Hanano."

Chavez turned to Trubel also, seeming to be formulating a strategy.

"We can have Griffin and Wu on it-they're already in this, and it should be their job to protect him, anyways," she started, taking out her own phone and, Trubel assumed, dialing Hank.

"I'm going, too," Trubel stated, striding toward the gate. She couldn't just stay here and do nothing while this was occurring; if nothing else, she wanted to watch out for Hank and Wu.

But Meisner seized her wrist and stopped her. 

"No," he declined. "You need to stay here. Whatever's going on with you-and I know something is-we can't risk it compromising you in the field."

Trubel's inclination was to protest; but at that moment, the sensation resumed with a vengeance. She caught blurry flashes of images _woods skulls a shield marked with an ornate cross a chest lined with blood_ and she had to restrain a gasp.

"Fine," she surrendered, dropping gracelessly into a chair closer to the gate. She hated being sidelined, but she couldn't explain what was happening to her and she agreed it wouldn't be a good idea for her to be in the field right then.

Her vision spun; however, she could still make out Chavez's end of her call with Hank.

"He could be after Andrew Dixon. If you aren't there now, I suggest you go. We have an approximate location on Hanano; you've done your part on that. Chione will take care of the rest."

She was here while everyone else was in the fray; Chione was on Marwan, Hank and Wu were on Dixon-even Valentina, their new recruit had a job. Protecting Rosalee.

* * *

The agents HW had assigned for her protection were not what Rosalee was expecting. She'd met them upon arriving at her shop that morning, and at first sight, she was rather perturbed.

The woman was a Balam-not one of the Wesen Fuchsbau were known to get along with-and she wasn't even the most startling visitor.

No, that was the man in the gray hood who first introduced them.

"This is Valentina Espanosa, and my name is Nathaniel Azadi," he said as he removed his hood; Rosalee caught a short glimpse of blue eyes becoming black as night, involuntarily triggering her Woge.

"You're a Grimm," she asserted warily, standing her ground instead of recoiling like her instincts were telling her to. she knew there was more than one Grimm working for HW, but that didn't mean he was one of them.

Nathaniel raised his hands as Valentina had done, showing that he was also unarmed.

"I am, but I'm one who protects Wesen-the good ones, at least-such as the council. Sadly, I couldn't protect them all, but I did get to your friend, Alexander in time," he explained slowly and with no trace of guile.

Rosalee inhaled sharply, retracting at the familiar name. Alexander had said a Grimm had rescued him from the council massacre; that could be public knowledge by now if the council had reassembled, so it still didn't mean he was the one. 

"Can you prove it?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Nathaniel inclined his head as if he'd expected her to ask, and removed a slip of paper from his coat with a number scrawled on it-the number Rosalee'd used to contact the council in the past.

"The council's line has been resecured. If you must, you may call him-or call Meisner. He will vouch for me as well; we're quite close," the Grimm declared confidently.

"I think I will,"Rosalee accepted, retrieving her HW phone and hitting the contact for headquarters.

" _Rosalee,_ " Meisner's distinctive accent crackled through the speaker after the first ring. " _I thought I might be hearing from you. Nathaniel is one of my most trusted agents; you're safe with him._ "

The call didn't help right away as she didn't know for certain it was Meisner talking or that he wasn't under duress. Fortunately, she eventually managed to establish that and gained proof Nathaniel was an ally, persuading her to let him in.

That said, it was still an adjustment, having him lurking in the corner of Spice shop knowing what he was-even more so than when she'd first met Nick. Getting used to Grimms who didn't just go right to cutting off her head was still new; Nick at least had had another Wesen to vouch for him, someone who had known her brother and helped solve his murder. While she was currently putting her faith in Meisner and Chavez, she still didn't have much rapport with them.

She was more comfortable with Valentina. She might have been one of the more predatory Wesen, but she was still more familiar and she was a woman, too. Therefore, she was the one who stayed by Rosalee as she worked, and Nathaniel kept his distance.

Though his presence was still rather unsettling, it was also, thankfully, a distraction from worrying about Monroe. Since he and Nick had gone, she hadn't heard from them. It was only this turn of events that kept her from fretting or spinning scenarios about what the lack of contact meant.

Around mid afternoon that day, another distraction arrived.

It started with Nathaniel receiving a call from his superior. He came into the main room of the shop as he was answering it, his previously impassive features contorted in deep consternation.

"Do you need more backup?" he was saying, drawing Rosalee's attention as she said goodbye to a customer. His tone was different; whereas he'd been friendly but dutiful while speaking to her, now he sounded almost...tender.

The shift piqued Rosalee's interest, and she watched him listen to his boss, his expression going from concerned to resigned.

"Very well, but you call me the second you go into the field," he insisted vehemently, huffing and hanging up.

"What happened?" Valentina questioned, standing straighter.

Rosalee saw the Grimm's jaw clench.

"There was a sighting of Hanano at the location of Dixon's rally. They believe the target may be someone there."

Rosalee looked at Valentina, both their gazes widening. There were a lot of important people there; but they were people really only important to Portland. Why would Black Claw be after any of them? Was this really only about getting to Nick?

"What are our orders?" Valentina inquired, turning back to her partner with squared shoulders. Rosalee observed them alertly; what was HW going to do to subvert Black Claw's plan, whatever it was?

"They've having the police handle defense while Chione tracks Hanano. We are to remain here." It was clear from Nathaniel's voice he didn't approve-further supported by how he stalked into the other room again after delivering the news.

Valentina softened as she watched his retreating back.

"I should talk to him. Will you be all right? It shouldn't take more than a moment."

Though she didn't understand why Nathaniel was upset by having to stay here, she understood Valentina's desire to console him.

"Go ahead. If anything happens, you are just in the other room," she waved her hand graciously. Thus far, everything had been fine-Tony hadn't appeared nor had there been anymore contact from him-and even if he did show, they weren't that far.

Valentina gave her a fleeting, reassuring smile before tailing after Nathaniel.

Rosalee turned away, resting her hands on the edge of the cash counter and exhaling. She didn't hear their conversation because she thought she should give them some privacy: in the meantime, she contemplated what Nathaniel had said.

Who was Black Claw's target? Was it the candidate himself? And if it was, why? Did they have someone else lined up to be mayor if he died, someone who was under their control?

She wasn't so deep in thought that she didn't notice the bell above her door ringing, signaling that someone was entering the shop.

"Can I help you?" she started to greet them, whirling around and pasting a welcoming smile on her face-which dropped when she recognized them. "Tony?"

"Why didn't you answer my letters?"her former acquaintance retorted with that familiar dubious smile on his pale lips. "I checked the address. I know you got them."

Rosalee stared at him, checking that he was really there and this wasn't just some terrible nightmare. When his image remained, and she knew it was real, she decided she didn't even want to deal with this.

"I don't want to get into this," she avoided the the demand guardedly, turning her back on Tony and returning to the other side of the counter. She had enough going on without adding his crap to the list. "Look, Tony, I've moved on with my life, and I-,"

"I need your help." Predictably, Tony didn't leave her alone and put on that pathetic wheedling manner he used to whenever he wanted something.

Once, it had worked on her, but now Rosalee wasn't having it. She shook her head.

"The kind of help you need, I can't give you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should just go," Rosalee dismissed him with a stern finality, wishing he would get the message that she didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. He didn't belong in her current life; that was why she hadn't responded to his letters.

Tony, unfortunately, either didn't get it, or didn't care.

"You owe me," he snarled, his smile turning ugly, much to Rosalee's incredulity. He sounded like he really believed that.

"I don't owe you anything," she scoffed indignantly. He had to be high again or something to make that claim; he'd never done anything for her that hadn't also been for himself.

Or it was an act, she realized as Tony's expression morphed into a fully-fledged sneer.

"You're right. You don't owe this to me; you owe this to all of us for betraying your kind and befriending a Grimm," he said viciously, Woge-ing and moving to lunge.

He was halted by Nathaniel, who'd clearly heard the commotion and come to check on her. When he strode in and saw Tony heading toward her, he'd bounded across the room into his path, slamming the heel of his palm into the Kackenkopf's chest.

Tony reeled back, winded and furious-especially at the sight of those abyssal pools that raked him with a blank, unimpressed glower.

"Another Grimm," he spat, shooting Rosalee a disgusted glance before mounting a riposte.

Nathaniel was ready for him; the second he got close, he stepped forward to meet him, fingers wrapping around Tony's wrist and twisting, driving him to his knees.

"Yes, and unless you want to lose your head, I suggest you do as the lady says and go," he threatened in a deceptively placid tone.

Tony glared up at him, defiant even in his kneeling position. It was clear that he wasn't planning to comply-then Valentine arrived, also in full Woge, and subdued him with a chain that locked his arms together.

"Or you can come with us," she proposed in a falsely sweet tone, dropping a hand onto his elbow. "I think we have some friends who'd like to ask you a few questions."

Rosalee still doubted Tony would go quietly-and he proved her right by uttering the two words she'd been dreading.

" _Occultatum libera_."

Valentina glanced at her partner, and Rosalee saw him tilt his chin slightly before the two of them dragged Tony to his feet. The woman stayed behind to check on Rosalee, though.

"Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," Rosalee shook her head a second time. "You stopped him just in time. Thank you. "She directed that part mainly at Nathaniel for he'd just saved her life-or at least prevented her from getting hurt.

Nathaniel paused midway through frog-marching Tony out of the shop, meeting her eyes and acknowledging her gratitude with a surprisingly gentle silent nod.

"Good," Valentina was more verbose, touching her arm amiably, the jerking her head at their captive. "We'll take care of him. Unless you want me to stay?"

Rosalee wasn't immediately forthcoming with a decision, still reeling from what that incident had revealed. So, Tony really had been Black Claw-and his letters had been about getting to her for them. Which meant Black Claw had dug into her past.

That was a truly scary thought, one that, although she could defend herself, made her think she could still use some company, if only until Monroe returned.

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course not. My partner can handle him on his own, and our orders were to keep you safe until Burkhardt's return," Valentina consented kindly, resuming her position behind the counter with Rosalee.

The Fuchsbau felt much better with her there. Tony might have been taken care of, but there was still the larger threat Trubel had warned them about, which she knew HW was also dealing with.

* * *

Chione stretched her senses throughout the buildings' interior, keeping Marwan's image present in her mind. It was a challenge, being unaware of his true identity-which she usually required to locate someone this way-but she was hoping she could manage for the sake of everyone involved.

So far, though, she hadn't found anything. She hadn't been able to narrow his location to a single unit or even a specific building. If she'd had his real name, she could have compelled him to come to her; again, though, she didn't have that, so she would have to use more manual means.

She wasn't above engaging in some old-fashioned pounding the pavement, and she traversed each complex on foot, using her enhanced vision to inspect every apartment without going in. But even that came up empty.

Until she reached the structure directly across from the rally's setting. As soon as she entered the lobby, her senses caught the air of violence on one of the upper levels; someone had been, or was being attacked.

She ascended the stairs in a blur, sending her powers into overdrive to pinpoint where the victim was. Her energy dwindled rapidly from the amount she had to expend going floor by floor, but she had no choice-there was too much at stake.

Her senses finally honed in on the tenth floor, and she burst through the door into the hall. She x-rayed every door along both sides as quickly as possible.

In the end, her abilities weren't what found Marwan, though: as her scan turned into a frenzy, her nose scented the stench of death-and her ears reverberated with the bang of a gunshot.

It came from the apartment marked 1212, and she scrambled toward it, blasting the door inward.

Marwan was no longer inside, but there was another man laying spread-eagled on the floor, blood streaming from his body. She couldn't hear a pulse so she asserted that he was dead.

Collateral damage, she thought, remaining focused on tracking Hanano before he escaped and scanning the room.

The window was open, indicating to her that that had been his exit. She extended her head through, and her eyes lasered on a distinctive form scaling the wall outside.  
He was heading toward the roof, she presumed. In his Woge'd state, Uhranutis had an ability approximating flight, and it would be easier to use it from the roof than the balcony, so that made sense.

And when he hit the ground, she could be there to intercept him.

She clambered onto the window sill, bundling her cloak around her as she listened for Marwan's distinctive sound. It was detectable now, puttering around the roof, and then leaping off in full Woge-she also saw him as he went sailing through the air with no visible means of support.

That was when she jumped, manipulating the air so she wouldn't be harmed in the descent to the ground at an unnatural speed. She hit the path, momentarily brought to her knees, before resuming her duty.

Marwan wasn't that far ahead of her, and retracted, she was able to see that he'd changed his appearance. His hair was blonde, and he'd shaved his beard; he no longer resembled the photo attached to the APB.

Clever; even if he was seen now, he wouldn't be recognized-except by her.

She eyed him, seeing him withdraw a phone and make a call. with her hearing still extended, she heard what he said as he walked.

"It's done," he declared curtly, his voice utterly void of emotion.

"A _ny complications_?" she was able to detect who he was talking to as well, another man with a harsh Russian growl. She didn't know it, but it was obviously another Black Claw member, potentially the leader of the cell who was running this op.

"No," Marwan snapped. "Send the car."

" _On its way_."

Chione made a point of passing Marwan, then, so he wouldn't suspect he was being followed. He looked at her, and she shot him a cordial smile before continuing in the opposite direction, but when he looked away, she halted to hear him speak again.

"Make sure the driver has my documents."

" _He does_ ," the other voice assured him tersely.

Chione had to act fast. If Marwan was going to be picked up, perhaps she could pretend to be his ride; that wouldn't arouse the suspicions of any onlookers, and he wouldn't want to cause a scene so even if he knew she wasn't the driver, he would play along.

All she required was a car. 

Marwan had halted at the foot of a bike trail, still with the phone raised to his ear. He didn't see the bike coming toward him; but Chione did.

She wasn't sure how, but it collided with him, knocking him to the ground and knocking his phone out of his hand.

" _Marwan, can you hear me?_ " she heard the other man shout through the speaker as the cyclist got off his overturned bike, horrified.

That put a kink in her plans, but she adapted quickly and crouched by Marwan's spread-eagled form, affecting the air of a concerned citizen.

"Call 911, I'll see if he's okay," she instructed the man, pretending to do just that. Then, while he was distracted making the call, she pressed two fingers to Marwan's temple, injecting him with a pulse that forced him into unconsciousness. Once he was comatose, she covertly summoned Marwan's phone from where it had fallen into her pocket, ending his call.

That done, she straightened and took her leave. This hadn't gone all according to plan-they hadn't prevented Marwan from accomplishing his mission, nor did they have him, but they could still get his contacts. Hopefully, that would lead to who had ordered this hit-and why.

* * *

No one saw the shot coming, nor where it came from. To Renard, who'd been on the stage, it was like one second, Andrew was addressing the crowd, waving and smiling-and the next, he was doubling over, crimson blooming at the front of his shirt.

He didn't even know it had happened until the crowd erupted into panic, yelling he'd been shot, and he scrambled to the crumpling man, catching him in his arms.

"Hey, hey!" he exclaimed in dread, pressing his hand to the wound to try and stanch the blood flow. Hank and Wu had told him Marwan might be targeting Dixon, but this still completely threw him for a loop. 

Screams echoed both in front and behind him, and a second later, Rachel was at his side, eyes wide in horror.

"Oh, my god!" she cried, dropping her cell and looking around frantically for help.

Much to Renard's dismay, none was forthcoming, and he could feel Dixon weakening in his arms.

"Andy." he shook him vigorously to get him to stay awake. "Andy!"

"Paramedics!" Rachel shouted desperately, waving her hands. They would have been called, but there'd been none at the scene, and there was no one around to fix this.

Dixon's eyes were growing more and more unfocused; he was sagging in Renard's hold, coughing up blood and there was nothing Renard could do to stop it.

"Andy, come on. Stay with with me, Andy!" he entreated plaintively, loathing this helplessness. Andrew had been his friend, and he couldn't believe he was watching him die.

People were running to them, but Renard waved them away.

"We need space. Move away."

"Oh, god, put pressure," Rachel gasped tearfully, her hand covering his over Andrew's wound, but she had to see it was no use. Renard draped his arm around her as she fell apart, inwardly screaming the same way.

"Look at me," he tried one last plea as Dixon's head began to loll onto his shoulder and his eyes started to close. "Hey, hey. Wake up. Wake up. Come on."

The paramedics finally arrived, and he was forced to let Dixon go, setting his body down on the stage. He and Rachel both stood, watching as they attempted to save him; they were too late, though, and Rachel buried her head in his shoulder as they declared him dead.

Renard was livid. Had this been Marwan Hanano? Had he killed Andrew? He had to know.

He couldn't find out here. He returned to the precinct with the evacuation being implemented, entering his office with his jacket clutched in his hands. 

His hands that, when he looked at them, he saw were covered in Andrew's blood. He exhaled sharply.

He didn't have long to grieve-and he didn't want to. He wanted to catch the culprit, and when he heard a knock at his door before Hank and Wu came in, he hoped they had done so.

"Did you get him?"

"No," Hank answered defeatedly, shaking his head. "Somehow we missed him."

"Every room in that building has been checked top to bottom," Wu said to emphasize they were doing everything they could.

Renard huffed in frustration.

"So, we got nothing?"

"No, we know who it is. It's Marwan," Hank declared with absolute conviction, causing Renard to frown.

"Wait, you saw him?"

"No," Hank denied hastily. "But it's him."

"How do you know?"

"Trubel confirmed he was in Portland, and he was reported in the area," the elder detective explained his reasoning. 

"He must have attacked the cop that made him. It was definitely Wesen," Wu added, but Renard still wasn't convinced.

"No, that doesn't make any sense. Why would he kill a candidate running for mayor of Portland? From what you told me, his targets are bigger than this."

"Unless Dixon was Wesen," Hank disputed. "Was he?"

Renard paused, going back over his interactions with Andrew. He'd never gotten any indication that he was Wesen, and he was usually pretty good at telling.

"No. I don't think so." He sighed, at a loss. This was going nowhere, and they couldn't do anymore than they were already. 

He turned to his employees. They had friends that had more resources than the police department; they had to find this guy. That looked like the only way they were going to get him.

Or maybe not.

Several hours later, his phone rang when Hank and Wu had returned still with nothing. He answered. "Renard."

 _"I know who shot Andrew Dixon_ ," a harsh Russian voice spoke, evoking another frown. He lowered the device, glancing at his employees. "Caller says he knows who shot Dixon."

Hank and Wu stared, aghast, as he put it on speaker.

"Who is this?" 

" _The man you're looking for is at Overton Medical. He may not be there much longer,_ " the voice informed him flatly, then the line went dead, much to everyone's bafflement.

"What? He's in the hospital? How'd that happen?" Wu exclaimed, brows arching. "Is this a crank?"

Renard's brain was in overdrive. He wasn't inclined to believe the caller, but on the slim chance that he was being honest, he had to follow the tip. He couldn't let Dixon's killer get away.

"Can't take that chance."

Apparently, the others agreed, and they went instantly to how to handle the situation.

"We could surround the hospital," Hank suggested, but Renard quickly shot that down.

"No, if we go in big, he'll see us coming."

"So, what do you want?"Wu deferred to him. He was the Captain, after all.

"Just us," Renard declared, collecting his coat. They were the only ones who knew what was really going on; they were the only ones who could deal with Marwan.

Hank looked like he was about to argue, but he must have realized they didn't have time and he complied, the three of them exiting the office together.

Overton Medical was the closest hospital to Lovejoy, and Renard was familiar with the route. He lead the drive in his SUV, fuming silently at the wheel. He wasn't going to let Marwan get away with this; jail wasn't enough after what he did. No, he had to pay with his life

There was a man who could have been Marwan standing outside the hospital's entrance as they neared it, but it was difficult to tell. It was dark, and his hair was a different colour than in the photograph Renard had been shown; there was one way to tell.

The man started walking toward Hank and Wu's car when they pulled up, but when Hank got out, he stopped squinting like he was looking for something familiar. He certainly wouldn't find anything, so it wasn't a surprise when he turned and stalked back the way he'd come.

Hank went after him slowly, as did Wu once he was out; Marwan must have sensed they were tailing him because he took off running.

Renard trailed him in his car, pulling around to the courtyard and leaving the vehicle to cut him off as he ran down the stone stairs there. Marwan looked back, but Hank and Wu were behind him-he was trapped, and he did what trapped animals were wont to do.

He Woge'd, and darted at Renard. The Captain transformed, too, speeding to catch him around the waist and throwing him to the ground. 

Marwan tumbled onto the grass, but when Renard went to attack him again, he kicked out with both legs,, sending him reeling. As he recovered, Marwan stood, sweeping a kick at his feet. He managed not to stumble, and he dodged the first swipe Marwan took at him with his taloned fingers. The second one connected, however, evoking a grunt.

He followed with a punch that knocked Renard back another step, increasing his fury. Having had enough, Renard ducked under his next attack and fisted his hands in Marwan's collar, headbutting him.

Marwan recoiled and went to grab him, too, but he knocked his arms apart, stepping back to avoid the swipe at his midsection. When Marwan's arm extended to hit him again, he seized it, pivoting and snapping it over his shoulder, hearing the crack of bone breaking and Marwan's pained squawk.

Before he could retaliate, Renard punched him in the throat and, for good measure, kicked him so he went sprawling down the stairs. He landed, his eyes sliding shut as he retracted, and then, he moved no more.

Hank and Wu ran toward them as Renard retracted. He turned, pressing a hand to the tear in his shirt where Marwan had gotten him, ordering without looking up. "Call it in."

Wu hesitated, but complied. "Yes, Sir."

"You okay?" Hank asked him warily as Wu reported what had happened.

"Yeah," Renard huffed heavily. It had been a difficult fight-Marwan was obviously highly trained-but at least he'd gotten justice for Dixon.

Hank, though, didn't seem to be sitting well with that.

"His hair wasn't blond."

"He dyed it," Renard supplied the obvious, shrugging. He didn't know why Hank was pointing that out now.

"Yeah, but I don't think I would have recognized him if he hadn't run," Hank commented.

"Well, that's him," Renard retorted impatiently, knowing Hank had to be going somewhere with this.

So, Hank got to it.

"Yeah, but how did the person who called you know it was him? The picture we put out-he didn't look like that." He wrinkled his nose." No this whole thing has to be some kind of set up."

Renard paused, hackles rising. He hadn't thought of that, but now Hank had brought it up, he realized that was a real possibility. No one else knew Marwan had shot Dixon, but the caller had-and he'd known where Marwan was. There was no way he could have known that unless he knew Marwan.

That said, if it was a set up, who was behind it?

* * *

He figured it out later back at his office, watching the video of the shooting on his television. As he inspected it, fastforwarding and rewinding it every so often, he caught something he hadn't while on stage: prior to the shooting, Rachel had been on the phone-with her eyes exactly where the bullet had come from.

That prompted him to stand, rewinding the video once more and playing it back with narrowed eyes to make sure that was really what he'd seen. He didn't want to believe it; he cared for Rachel, and she'd convinced him she cared for Dixon.

However, as he repeated the scene, there was no mistaking it. Rachel'd been feigning her shock at the shooting; she'd seen it coming.

He went home soon after putting that together, grappling with what to do about it. 

Then, as if knowing he was thinking about her Rachel appeared.

"Sean."

He turned at the sound of her tearful voice and found her standing in his driveway, fidgeting with her phone.

"I thought about calling. I really need you tonight."

Renard looked at her, taking in her watery eyes and her trembling fingers. She was good, but unfortunately he saw through her facade. He did let her inside only because he thought it would be better to confront her in private.

Not right off the bat, though. She'd been playing him for weeks; it was time for some turnabout.

"I think it's time we play a little rougher," he suggested huskily after kissing her, pinning her against the wall and Woge-ing. Once he had her attention, he dropped the pretense. "You knew Dixon was going to be shot."

Rachel responded in kind, her features morphing into that of a Lowen.

"Who the hell are you working for?"

They both retracted, and Rachel answered in an exultant tone. "The people who are gonna change your life."

Renard backed off her, eyebrows arching in bewilderment.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Rachel pushed herself off the wall smiling and waving her phone invitingly

"Let me show you."

Renard's eyes narrowed again suspiciously. He had a feeling he knew who she meant, and if he allowed her to "show him", he would get a chance to understand today's events.

"Okay," he agreed impassively, stepping away.

As he did so, she dialed on her phone and, bringing it to her ear, utter a single sentence. "He's ready."

Whoever she'd called must have been close by for it was mere moments later that his doorbell rang. Rachel went to get it, returning to his foyer with a very pale, bearded man,

"Lucien, Sean Renard," she introduced them.

"Nice place," Lucien commented in a Russian drawl-a familiar one.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" Renard demanded, folding his arms as he faced them. 

"Dixon was meant to die," Lucien consented coldly, approaching him with a distinctly predatory lope. "And you were meant to kill the man who killed him."

"You're the one who told me where Marwan was," Renard surmised, discerning where he knew the man's voice from. There was only one way this guy would have known how to find Marwan.

"And you're a Zauberbiest," Lucien countered, deliberately avoiding the accusation. He knew how to play this game-and he was obviously here for something.

Which Rachel revealed.

"Which makes you one of us."

"We could make you the most powerful man in the city."

That almost zealous look in their eyes, in addition to the warning he'd previously received about Marwan's bosses, connected the dots.

"You're Black Claw," he declared flatly. 

His guests didn't miss a beat.

"Show him," Lucien directed Rachel, and the redhead retrieved the object Lucien had brought inside with him, unrolling the tube to unveil a poster with his picture on it-a campaign poster.

So, that was their plan: they'd wanted Dixon out of the way so they could make him mayor-and run the city with him as their proxy.

"You got to be kidding," he scoffed, the idea ridiculous. He'd never run for mayor; he'd never wanted to.

But the Black Claw members weren't going to give up that easily, and Rachel's next words struck a chord with him.

"You're a hero. You could win."

This time, he said nothing, reconsidering. Naturally, he wasn't keen on being their puppet, but the concept of being a hero did appeal to him, as did the power that would come with being mayor.

Perhaps he shouldn't be so hasty in writing them off. Perhaps he should see what they had to offer him first.


End file.
